With mascara on & double swab of red lipstick,
she left for selling her body.
But no one knew she was still the same girl
who slept with a rusty stuffed toy with her mum's initials on it.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Ends
PoesiaSometimes it's not about the end. It's just about the story. A collection of four liners that I wrote which didn't have the oh-so-perfect endings. Well because life doesn't offer each and everyone the fairytale endings they grew up listening to.
