There was a girl
She had words in her curls,
But silence was her only friend.
And she's afraid it has to end.
In her eyes there's a fire,
Not one of desire,
It burns as bright as red
The color of the liquid
That ran down her wounds as she bled.
She is not what you think
And can change in a blink.
Facing strangers wrath
Is going to be my death.
But the sun rises again
The night has passed away
And she's once again clay.
Clever
Is something she has never.
Fear
Is just like you, my dear.
The moon disappears again
But
I'm not just as plain...
Hence, there were words in her curls
But I'm not just a speck of dust,
And can do nothing against my guts.
YOU ARE READING
Red
Poetry"But the sun rises again, The night has passed away And she's once again clay [...]" This is a poetry book. My deepest thoughts, doubts and secrets have written this book together.
