Wounds

These wounds are fresh

Welling Crimson coloured red
Like scarlet signs
That reminisce 
Wars you fight in your own head
 
And though the tears are falling
Like the rains of Noah's ark
A thousand massive waters
Cannot put out your spark
 
The winds are swirling fast now 
But soon will come a calm
That eases all your sorrows 
And holds you in its palm 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741