Slicing under pallid skin
Wearing the material until it is too thin
Roaring with disgusted loathing hate
That only years of pain knew how to create
Poor little girl filled with the devil
Once so pure but now a rebel
Craving meaty crimson flesh
He'll cut you up so you look like mesh
Unpaciently waiting for his next kill
A creepy fetish only death could fulfill
If unleashed would it be a sin
No one would know where the monster had been
Be careful and don't you dare cry
Don't battle the instincts for you will not win
At a risk and release the beast that is within.
YOU ARE READING
Words Unspoken
PoetryFrom pain comes passion, from passion comes inspiration. These written words may not make sense, may not fit well, but they are real. Real pain and passion created these. Read each and learn a bit about me and my past, present, and future. Cover by:...
