Roses of sorrow,
Without a tomorrow,
Devoid of mirth,
Craving rebirth.
A barren soul
In a garden of ghouls,
Its lifeless eye
Ever-fixed on the sky,
A sky grey as mud,
The stars dark as blood,
No light to be found,
No soul-soothing sound.
No promise of morn
But the caress of a thorn,
Blood seeping into a hole
In the middle of the soul.
About the Creator
Jūlija @beeofjuly
Heyo, I'm a multipassionate with a love for medicine, natural sciences, linguistics, music, math, and writing, which I use as an excuse to explore anything that captivates my heart and mind.
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More stories from Jūlija @beeofjuly and writers in Poets and other communities.
Vale Perficientur
"My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." The sarcasm stabbed into Juliana’s heart. Antonia glared at her from the pit of the Lyceum as her student fought to hold back tears that had nothing to do with the pain in her fingers. “You’re better than this, again.”
By Matthew Fromm4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This was so poignant yet so beautifully written! I loved it!