Hurt
#3 of Poetry
Don't bleed, hold the bleeding my love,
The tears tear through these seams,
God's Black Hand has no blood,
And now I awake from this dream,
My love, your body so cold,
Quiet and silent, so blue,
My hand empty, nothing to hold,
My soul, to death it dues,
This black suit, dirty and torn,
This pink dress, graceful and sorrowed,
Together death, such deadly thorns,
This fake life, mistakenly borrowed,
The candle lights the room,
Don't bleed my love, don't bleed no more,
The sun sets, death looms,
Flail and squirm, upon the floor,