He broke down the levee’s Tore me down with themWater bleeding in slowly For a slow kind of deathWe’re not getting a revivalThis is just an act of hurtingNothing morePain is never poeticUntil you write about it laterWe are not a prophecy fulfilledI’m still bleedingOutAnd there’s nothing more to say Except I wish I could stop itMy wristsContinue reading “Bleeding”
