# Cyra the poet
# 🖋Dripping pen
It wasn’t my intentions
it wasn’t my skin punishment
no , I was punishing her
her who came to betray me
in the name of love
yet she shopped rove
blood rolled pain
cuttings bleeded anger
distance killer
mind sandwich
a browser punisher
yet no back thoughts about it
tears are rolling
waters no more
as blood is colouring
yet brand is still sharp
cuttings still afresh
brands for more flesh
eyes thirsty of colour
as floor awaits to feed
yet pain,anger are countless
countless to depressed
she knew what ,she was
that coloured water
will never leave her in serenity
despair always her cuddle
brand will one day be blunt
but sharper on her end
as floor will feed but
hungry on her toes .
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