Spring
Inside the breeze, calms with whispers,
Sounds of beautiful eyes,
Lusting before me held in silence,
In shame but not alone.
Embracing the hands,
Wrapped around what is,
Becoming all that I know.
Lost in its song,
All but sounds I speak,
And stutter remorse,
That rose so hoarse,
Hiding in the shadows,
Praying so neat.
Suicidal friends coming to taunt,
Chatting there notes to there flower,
Pricked by the thorns embrace,
Just sitting and watching me bleed,
Indeed its seed becoming,
The leaves bloomed in spring.
Copyright © Justin Robbins | Year Posted 2011
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