He is fear and desire.
He is cold.
He is calculating.
He is callous.
He is caught up
In a world of Death and Power.
He got the girl
He lost the girl
He fought the girl
He bought the girl
Through marriage
He took her home,
In a glass carriage.
That turned to a glass prison
And the phoenix has arisen.
She broke free
Of his incriminating clutches
Or so she thought
Then she heard a hard knock
"Who's there?"
she asked the air.
Between freedom and despair.
"Me." said the voice of her nightmares.
"Me." said the boy of her dreams.
"Please," she begged,
And broke out of her seams.
"Tear my heart to pieces,
until all I do is scream.
It is that or eternal darkness." he beamed.
- bettydorotheamarjorie -
YOU ARE READING
a letter made from ashes
PoetryThis is a collection of my innermost knife cutting thoughts, my deepest insecurities, my heartbreak, things that I have thought about but never dared say out loud. Things that would normally go in a burn book, things that might hit a chord in you, o...
