apparently i make a very good scapegoat
you stole it all
and my blood stained hands took the fall
it was easy for them to belive
so you said it was me
after all who would blame you
with your wide eyes a glistening crystal blue
and your sense of humor they adore
who would blame you over a common whore?
no one would and no one did
so they sold me off to the highest bid
made a me a special place in hell
and left me to wither away in this dingy cell
waiting for fate to come punish me
waiting for death to set me free
YOU ARE READING
ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅɪᴇꜱ
Poetry𝙞 𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘥 #1 in #orginalpoetry as of 6/27/24
