A smirk
emerges from his lips,
With me
Shuddering in horror
He looks at me
Still smiling
His innocent
Smile of his
"Want to play?"
He questions
Before gripping
His weapon
I silently stifle
a small no,
Trying to keep
My voice clear
His face darkens,
Gripping it tighter,
"Well, I guess I'll
Have to force you."
YOU ARE READING
constantly blooming.
Poetry'i will never stop blooming, like an eternal rose of flame... i may have my times of smolder and small sparks, but i will always become a huge inferno in the end... and nothing can stop me.' Collection of poetry and prose between the ages of 10-15...
