You aim your fury,
intent to kill me.
Judged with cries of guilty,
take your bloody shovel,
sure and proud,
you only have a body to bury.
An empty shell,
for I hid my heart a lifetime ago.
Dig my grave,
in the field of decaying flowers.
Someone already poisoned the ground,
with destructive love.
YOU ARE READING
Speaking to Lost Souls
PoetryA collection of thoughts and emotion. Forgive me. I have a poet's soul, but not a poet's pen.
