A Beautiful Curse

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I hope I will never have to write poetry again;

About you, about me, about us.

I hope I will never have to sit on my corner;

My dying space,

Thinking about what could have gone wrong,

What I could have fought for,

What I vould have said

And what I could have done.

You see, my words are poison and my hands are cursed;

Capable only of creating tears

And unhappy endings.

A Poem by Scarlet M. 

for him. ✔Where stories live. Discover now