Even the scars may heal,
Or heart may dry up.
Red may turn into teal,
Yet, I will fuck up.
No more layers to peal.
Nothing more to blowup.

Nothing left to steal,
The blood, chokes me up.
You make it into a meal,
Continue to sail on the shallop.
Black heart in a veil,
Still far from the final stop.

It may not be a great deal,
And I try to pull the plug.
Time says will help to heal,
Life is the floor & it mops.
Someone will end this ordeal,
A flight from that perfect hilltop.

Tagged: poetry