Call It Sorrow
My Demons still exist,
They employ the worst;
The question I insist,
Who will destroy me first?
All my Demons that awake,
Fill poison in my veins;
If my soul these Demons take,
Alone I die in vain.
So take this rose and call it sorrow,
Still it's a rose by any other name;
Watch it bloom and by tomorrow,
It's turning red but still it wilts the same.
If you are the copyright holder of this poem and it was submitted by one of our users without your consent, please contact us at http://support.scrapbook.com and we will be happy to remove it.