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Angelic Prose

Angelic prose composed with ink on the stem of this dead rose
Gripping the thorns, adorning the page with the blood that is born
The more that I bleed, the more I see her image with vision blurred
And words become slurred, mind no longer sensing the things that occur
Alone in this room, my doom, holding this withered and blood-soaked bloom

Posted by Danny on August 10, 2005 2:27 PM |

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on August 10, 2005 2:27 PM.

The previous post in this blog was Uncomfortable Glance.

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