In a maze of thorns
You ran on your own
Puzzled with the ways
Still your beauty stays
Slipped a bit
A cut had exist
Ignoring its presence
Your gentle skin hastens
Instances occurs on the eighteenth
Blaming, Hating and Self-harming
Things got worse, eventually
The wounded has grew perfectly
Bloody clot turned to horns
Kudos to the filthy encounters
You had lived in hades
And can't help but turn the waves
Devil that whispers
Has become your own
Now you're a Maze
To people who killed your days
YOU ARE READING
Undelivered
Poetrya damsel's archived thoughts of the world. [please do not steal or copy without consent of the author] © mardemoiselle 2019
