I lay there in the ground.
Underneath the course dirt.
I can barely see, the black plastic bag is ruining my vision.
I can hear thumping up above, people are walking on top of me.
My clothes are stained with blood.
The wounds that he inflicted are still fresh, oozing out of me like melted ice cream.
My stomach hurts because of the bullet that's in it.
My face is bruised with his love.
He told me he loved me, if this is love. I don't want it.
But what can I say, I'm a fool for love.
He loves me.
YOU ARE READING
Hidden Thoughts
PoetryTiny poems that I came up with when I was bored. At least I think they are poems, hmm. If you want they could actually be book ideas but if you do turn it in a story either 1). Comment on the chapter your turning into a book or 2). Message me whic...
