Stains.
Can't rub them off.
They stay with me,
everywhere I walk.
Stains.
Inking my paper.
They cover me,
from all those traitors.
Stains.
Covering a book.
To keep me,
from reading all those painful words.
You have stained everything I do.
Every path I decide to take.
Your stain is there.
The stain of love.
*******************************************************
Another one of those poems in that abandoned drawer of mine. Yeah.......
Your happy duckling,
~Mansi the Demigod.
