small,
that's what they called her.
scared and meek.
the perfect kind of soul,
that the devil himself would seek.
night,
the time that scared her the most.
dark and cold.
the perfect time of day,
when she could make a deal selling her soul.
unknown,
that's what drove her over the edge.
yes but no.
because it hurts the most,
when your own heart has lost its glow.
terrified,
that's what she really was.
arms of red
for she lived a life,
being afraid of her own head.
insecure,
the terror that ruled her life.
there and gone.
for it's hard to keep living,
when everything you do feels wrong.
YOU ARE READING
Words to My Demons | Poetry ✔️
Poetry❝she was simple, an angel born without wings. yet she was special, an enchanting song her lost soul sings. ❞ A dark and deep poetry collection of every little thing that makes us both unique and insane. ~ Highest ranking in Poetry: #7 ~ 1st Place in...
