Many red devils ran from my heart
And out upon the page,
They were so tiny
The pen could mash them.
And many struggled in the ink.
It was strange
To write in this red muck
Of things from my heart.
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Comments
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Shory and sweet; to the point.
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I do this everytime I write. I have to feel it within or I just can't put any depth of passion in it. It has to be ME overall.
I like this
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For me this poem though it depicts barely-hidden rage. I think "strange" was not the adjective I'd have used, though; it seems a little weak for the intensity of the expressed feelings.
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