Its a terrible thing,
The blade kiss sting,
And beauty that blinds,
In the eyes of the man inside me.
Born a woman,
But a warrior soul,
I have no holes,
I didnt let erode at will,
I honestly spread the bleach,
That faded because I could not let you go.
Licking the chains,
In the cold wind,
The tongue savors the submissive chill of your Numbingly intoxocating glare.
The chains that bind were intentionaly put there,
To keep your cold from freeing,
I put myself in a box,
To hold your glance to my body filled with maggots of hope.
I stair from the glass,
At the hole in your head.
Evil cannot love,
And in Envy your mouth blead Death.
© Copyright 2016 SkarlettStone. All rights reserved.
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