The Pain That Shows

By , Roebuck, SC
As I sit here in the POURING RAIN,
And the RAIN DROPS fall down my face,
Soaking through my cloths,
Sliding down my cheeks and,
Dripping off of my hair,
Disguising every TEAR,
And washing away the BLOOD,
That flows through my veins,
And out my WRISTS, onto my JEANS,
A dark red spot, the color of a rose,
Oh the irony of the colors,





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This article has 4 comments. Post your own now!

charlotte420 said...
Sept. 24, 2009 at 12:02 pm
i totally love this poem. This is almost like one of mine that i wrote.
 
Rebecca321 said...
Sept. 23, 2009 at 5:03 pm
I really like this. To me it was like a romance gone bad and now the character's a cutter, and the irony is that the color of the rose (love) is the color of your blood (pain) I may be wrong, but that's just how I saw it.
 
xXxEmoKittiexXx replied...
Oct. 21, 2011 at 6:30 am
You are correct :)
 
Lindsey H. said...
Sept. 23, 2009 at 2:14 pm
that is a really stongly worded poem and i LOVE it...i wish i was that good!!
 
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