The bleeding poet pours out his heart
In words that flow like crimson art
Each line a scar, each verse a wound
His pain and passion, forever attuned
His ink is blood, his quill a knife
He bares his soul, in this inner strife
His verses echo with a haunting grace
As he writes the truth he cannot face
His tears and blood blend in the verse
A masterpiece born from the curse
Of feeling deeply, of loving hard
Of being broken, and forever scarred
The bleeding poet writes of love
Of loss and pain, of skies above
He writes of hope and dreams that died
Of all the things he's pushed aside
His words are raw, his voice sincere
The bleeding poet has nothing to fear
For in his bleeding, he's found his voice
In his pain, he's made the choice
To write the truth, to tell his tale
To never let his spirit fail
The bleeding poet may be in pain
But in his words, he'll always reign.
©Otieno Elvis Gikoi
THE ELO’S🇰🇪
©bold-geo
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