Scraps

just scraps and pieces off of the main dish, some lonely poetry that has no home.

Scrap 1:

What scream pierces the heart of night?
What dream do you have in the dark,
so black it makes you blind.


Scrap 2:

The blood of every wrist
falls like rain,
shining,
crimson,
like a rose petal diamond.


Scrap 3:

What life, dream,
kind, scream?


Scrap 4:

Why do we leave???
Even when we hear the child scream???
Is it because we want no part in this dream???
We think it's not what it seems to be,
so we ignore it,
don't let them free,
but it'll be the last thing you see!!!


Scrap 5:

I have torn apart
what was left of my heart
to be lost among the fields of nightmares.
my only true love has been broken into
a thousand pieces.
My heart is so fragile and true
it's been broken forever
never to be healed.