The clock strikes twelve
And it's for me to leave.
I promised to stay,
So I will be here.
My dress become undone,
But you told me not to run.
The princess that you were just dancing with,
Is now a pauper, ugly indeed.
YOU ARE READING
My Daily Pill
PoetryA compilation of thoughts from Day 1 to present. (Finished) Other works: Overdosed Misplaced
