blood
i crave for blood to fill my arms,
my thighs.
like red ink on a peice of paper.
i enjoy it, though, it's a problem
i can never shake.
👁 8💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.