I wore a dress
That is as red as your mistrust.
I came to your place,
Only to be stuck in such a mess.
You poisoned me at three,
And at night you flee.
My throat started to sore
As what I drank spread by each hour.
I felt a flame going through my pipe,
So I knew that I won't survive.
I then coughed up lots of blood,
And layed down as I lost my life I once had.
YOU ARE READING
Morgies Poems
PoetryI wrote not for bad attention, For I share with good intentions. I would not stop nor get swoon, For I will bleed even under the moon.
