His heart is black
His soul tainted,
His life a massacre the devil painted,
He may be a monster...
But he's mine.
His face expressionless
His shoulders hunched,
His body a sculpture life has crunched,
He may be scary...
But he's mine.
His attire is torn
His shoes well worn.
His features a ball of clay the fight has formed.
He may be a monster
He may not be sublime,
But heaven knows he is mine.
YOU ARE READING
Poems And crap
PoetryHey here is just a few of my poems and some random quotes and pictures I like.., Lovies...Tella.
