He had the devils eyes, but
I was blind to the stony limits of dark alleyways
of neglected thoughts, a pathway to his
discarded dirty mind
filled with his own
misery that he inclined upon my youthful bones,
he struck, diligent little girl
little quiet girl never speak a single word
easy prey, he stalked upon my sheets each night
leaving no traces of my demise over
the years in which he climbed
around my growth, little girl, older girl
young woman,
developed only here and there but not
her mind, her
pretty mind
a rose thrown,
supposed red
black, burnt
coiled.
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ПоэзияHighest rank: #23 In poetry. A compilation of Poems about love, heart break, depression and everything in between really. Black, white, and of course, a dose of grey.
