• It's the color on the floor
    and the feel
    of death's door,
    it just seems like a darker place,
    the scars upon
    the broken face.
    Feel depression
    take it's stance,
    in the light
    shadows dance.
    The sharpened knives
    in the wall
    the blood
    runs, drips, and falls.
    by constant mourners,
    welcome to the emo corner