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a Poem written as an entry for Spidey's Weekly Poetry Contest... |
| SILENCED A withering rose, lying alone, on top of my bed. Its meaning, who knows? In a matter of time, it will be dead. Soiled sheets, cluttered clothes all lay forgotten on the marble floor. Feelings unreal, I suppose, everything ended when you closed that door. A glistening blade, clutched tightly, by a pale, weakened hand. The colors shall fade, forever, still you'll never understand. Splattered; deep scarlet, hot liquid dripping along each wrist. Now, your lovely Charlotte-- covered in silence, shall cease to exist. |