She was born with silver in her veins.
It flowed through
And stained her eyes.
She believes this is what defines her.
She was born with silver in her blood.
She was more than fiery
And her screams washed over me.
She knew she was priceless.
She was born with silver in her fingertips.
She coloured what she touched
And I agreed she was priceless.
She thought she knew what priceless was.
I was born with gold in my heart.
She thought she was worth my life
But the fact she couldn't sense my gold
Was what made her unworthy.
We are all born with iron in our souls.
Priceless in different ways
Even different colours and shapes.
Don't let a girl with silver tell you otherwise.
YOU ARE READING
Alive - Original Poetry
PoetryThis is a book of original poetry, written by me. I do not allow any one to repost my work anywhere, so if you see any stolen work on other websites or anything, please tell me and I will sort it. Thank you. This is poetry that is written by a perso...
