They spit malice, denting already soft steels, pouring relentlessly like blood washed from their very veins. Those lies are raw cauliflowers, staining tongues bitter with an infectious disease. It entangles itself between thier marrows, oozing into ivory lungs, and when they exhale, there is venom smeared on those breaths.
But between those lies, a starry-eyed girl stares at the silver clad beast, and breathes;
❝ THEY'RE FOOLS, FOR THEY CAN NEVER SEE THE BEAUTY INSIDE YOU. ❞
YOU ARE READING
WICKED HEARTS
Poetry❝ WE ARE ALL THE BAD IN SOMEONE'S STORY. ❞ do not copy. all rights reserved ⓒ 𑁍 blue rose awards | first place in poetry & second place in unknown story
