All around me is pure.
But I taint the grouund with my footsteps.
Aheaddd of me is a whte mist, with black tendrils curling in.
Behind me is a black blanket, no white to be seen.
Kids run away when they see me coming.
Mothers shut the door and bolt it.
They don't understand.
I am not a threat.
I am just an angel of death.
YOU ARE READING
Broken
PoetryJust your average collection of poetry done by your average unicorn. Xavier hopes you like the poems! **Sorry if the spacing is jacked up**
