Pink as a rose, stunning as the midnight air.
As beautiful as falling rain, without a flaw in site,
Without fear of night, I stand in the dark calling
your name.
Whispers I hear, whispers of the dead, calling out my
Name in warning you are near, to tell me to run for
my life but I stay calling your name. I suffer,
I fall like midnight rain.
Your name well known, not a worry you care.
You hold on when you feel like falling.
You pursue when you feel like quitting,
you continue when all is lost...
My arms open wide to you who need me, my arms open
Wide to thee who know. I don't play your games nor go
along with your lies, my heard pounds with rage when
I look your way. You cut like a throne and sting like a bee.
You are harmless. You are frail.
You turn that week into strong and turn your thorns into knives,
your bee stings into stabs of your blade. You are beautiful as a rose,
but as lethal as a serial killer. You hunt the night, prowling the streets, saying "go to sleep"........
(this poem is for Jeff the killer..... don't ask my if I am a fan girl the answer is no. I did this to be nice, nothing more so don't assume anything.)
