Hidden scars on my skin, my secret sin.
On lonely nights, or times of fear.
You help her to appear
Your nasty words, make her sing
My silver lady, dressed in blood
With her hugs, they bring a lust
Only satisfied by my blood, which now drips from open cuts.
I hope you know, what you've done
To make me dance, with this monster
Her heart is made of steel, her gown a bloodied mess
I keep her hidden, beneath my drawers
She is my secret pet, my shining silver lady.
YOU ARE READING
The ramblings of a madman
PoetryThese are a collection of poems and intriguing thoughts, that I have had. I will warn you, most of them will most likely contain triggers (blood, suicide, murder) so read on, if you dare.
