You killed them,
As we speak now you are a murderer.
You killed the child who longed to be heard,
You ripped their world to pieces,
Tore their clothes and muddied their shoes.
You killed the little one who had issues,
But had dreams.
But I guess dying was in their genes.
You killed yourself,
Every bit of you that was innocent is gone.
Now look what you've done,
You did nothing wrong.
But I will say,
I don't know how they'll last a day,
Without you going with them on their way.
So good job getting out of the system.
The system of your abusers,
And though it killed you,
I'm still with you.
Always.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a mended artist.
Poetrythis will be a part two to my other set of poems. please read them but they are not needed to understand these. These will be much sadder than my original ones usually.
