PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You were the sin after my heart,

I was the rescue to your soul. 

Mend the kinks I've repressed

and bring truth from past haunts. 

When does it end? 

The suffering that tries to besiege me.

Or is it but a shadow hovering my existence;

meshing plagues. 

Show yourself to spill secrets in whispers,

as the echoes will chime distant cries.

Should you mold me out of clay, 

it should become your cursed delusion.

Now let your naked eyes mend fragility,

from the pieces of blind thoughts. 

Should I walk you home again,

let it be a desolate map scratched with black and white.