Bleed

Scattered moments hits stone cold ground
rejected memories longing to be found

Each drop of blood that pours from my aching pen
redirects my consciousness from now to then

Oh how profound, now could it be
that I bleed memories, or do they bleed me?

– Malicia Frost

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About Malicia Frost

Your local Frankenstein.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Bleed

  1. denisehognas says:

    Good question! ^^ Beautiful. :3

    Like

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