Everywhere I go is all but dead-end.
Page written full and end of the story.
No will or inspiration left to hit another dead end.
My world is painted black and red
All the other colors are beaten dead.
Now it's me, stuck in time, wondering where did I go wrong?
I guess it was my self destructive ways pointing me this way!
The first fall... broke all my bones.
From then on I took the road crawling.
The path was headed downhill.
I realise we are nothing but Falling leaves ...
Blown around... to the ground... hovering and spinning... already dead!
My blood-red theme has gotten darker...
Realising there was never a dead-end!
The reaper offers freedom I have been craving.
The reaper has the power to erase this blood-stained world.
My dead-ends were erased.
About the Creator
Liga Stromberga
Dark poetry in my heart from the cradle to the grave.
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