Crimson
Nooses hang upon the trees,
swaying gently in the breeze.
Self loathing rips through his chest,
a raging beast which never rests.
Unseeing eyes stare through the mist,
wondering if he'll be forgotten, or missed.
His wrists are slashed, his leaves stained red,
His heart is heavy like carrying lead.
As tears come to his eyes,
his final words,
a whispered, Goodbye.
Copyright © Vicki Waterhouse | Year Posted 2012
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