These hands are made of flesh,
yet don't see the true power they hold,
murderous intent,
murderous rage,
all mixed in the feet of anger,
a gentle soul with no intent kill,
yet killed the one they loved,
was it or was it not,
we'll never know,
now same hands that killed, murdered it self.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight Muse
PoetryThese are poems I've made over the years, some of them are from books I've wrote but never published, some of them are from shows that i love and some of them are from my life. a poem will be published every other day at 10AM AST/9AM EST
