Crack of The Whip

Depressed Poetry

Crack of The Whip

Staring through the tainted windows

into the world outside of my room.

Where death and destruction rule

the blades of grass beneath our feet.

Tears seem endless, gliding down

the gentle flesh of our cheeks.

Pain never wanting to heal, the scars

life is always leaving on our hearts.

My eyes can't see past the hurt anymore,

growing tired of my self inflicted demise.

Life drains from my soul with every moment

I spend consumed within my hated fears.

I crack the whip that leaves the scars

across his loving heart of gold.

Watching the drops of blood escape

through the welts left in loves place.

Ripping myself to pieces with each slash,

as I cut deeper into the beauty of his soul.

My eyes bleed forth the love, that my lips

can't find the words to speak out loud.

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