rips and scares

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
just a short poem

Submitted: February 17, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 17, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

take this knife

and with my syth 

slit my throat 

let it bleed on my coat 

when you see my hearts been torn 

thats when youll know why i morn

shoot me quick 

kill me slow

ill never say why i go

cut me up to stop my soul

from leaving you with a gapping hole

sing that song "the witch is dead"

but really think you want to cradle my head 

that one last time to kiss her lips 

to sew her heart and glue the rips


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