she fell asleep to the sound
of hymns of angels by her
side; so unaware of the cruel
words and their salivating,
sword-shaped tongues.with the neptune in her eyes,
her lips spread across the
horizon like a streak of
lightning; she doesn't know
that her energy is equivalent
to a vein of constellations.she is a sailing ship over
the rough waters; she is the
swirls of bubbles inside
a wave of destruction
but, she keeps her fist
closed and her lips
sealed.she never realized
how powerful she
was.
the scarlet marks on
her arms were the
purest rubies and
she could never
determine what
they were worth of.
YOU ARE READING
girls. girls.
PoetryIt's a shame how they're considered muses and at the same time their blood taints the canvas. (#57 in poetry on 18/08/2016) All rights reserved. © DirectionerRia17