03.08.2013
The picture drawn just perfect
The red its brilliant ruby hue
The rose is drawn and the artist gone
The entire room is still.
Except for sobbing at the table
Except for that is is quiet
Except for hands which are not stable
Except the wounds won't heal.
Keeping her thoughts within herself
Keeping her silence and her grief
Keeping her anger and her sorrow
Keeping a blade outside its sheath.
The rose begins to dry and wilt
The picture is merely a stain.
Except the part where the ink keeps flowing
Except that part, the rest is dead.
Keeping the picture in full hue
Keeping a memory on paper, outside the head.
Roses, she draws, she draws, she knew better.
The picture drawn just perfect
The red its brilliant ruby hue
The rose is drawn and the artist gone
The entire room is still.
Except for sobbing at the table
Except for that is is quiet
Except for hands which are not stable
Except the wounds won't heal.
Keeping her thoughts within herself
Keeping her silence and her grief
Keeping her anger and her sorrow
Keeping a blade outside its sheath.
The rose begins to dry and wilt
The picture is merely a stain.
Except the part where the ink keeps flowing
Except that part, the rest is dead.
Keeping the picture in full hue
Keeping a memory on paper, outside the head.
Roses, she draws, she draws, she knew better.
posted from Bloggeroid
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