The violet blood,
that departed the wounded,
captured by the knife,
could not be altered by ego
or by a soul dependent.

A void that is none,
a plea for sanity is
awakening of
a being with no drumbeat.
The song is over as I.

The structure of guilt
consumes the hippocampus,
the neurons that be.
How do we outweigh the shame
with justice that cannot be seen?

Guilt and shame of one,
are they the parallel feelings?
Shame without guilt is
dangerous. It is insanity.
A crazy that can't be deemed.

The blood can be stopped,
the violet will keep blooming,
the cycle goes on.
Guilt is a measure of mass.
Love can't be seen, you are gone.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem