Empathetic to the Dead

Dry blood shoot eyes I can't disguise
from all the times I was chastised
because I wouldn't compromise
dry bloodshot eyes, dry bloodshot eyes

Screams of the dead rang in my head

while feeling their pain as it spread

and each note was dripping with dread

screams of the dead, screams of the dead

Hearing their cries fill up the skies

recent spirits begin to rise

funny how I wasn't surprised

hearing their cries, hearing their cries

Then my heart bled a crimson red

for all the souls that got misled

tricked to going below instead

then my heart bled, then my heart bled

Copyright©2015 by Patrick B Vince

Monotetra Poem