Friday, 29 March 2013

sunday morning

-one sunday morning 
bitterly cold
snow falls and 
the forceful wind
blows against me 
the streets are all empty 
a trail of blood 
leads to the cottage
fresh still-
I'm ill, 
so still, 
so empty
so alone
so hurt
I've blown 
and the wind blows me
and I still can't see 
-I bleed-
but I still don't take heed
I want to disappear into thin air
I want to forget I was ever here
(on earth)