Born in the heat, was a soul of chill, nevermore so loyal.
Trusting and loyal, the soul would grow, in a frightful past.
Conceited, and conveying, ideas of such a pain.
It was rid of, and taken out of, secluded they were so long.
Journeying through the years of life, going through on a whim.
Never thought it would be, the betrayal would never end.
Ever wishing to be set free, from a lone world.
Lacking allies and foes, so she alone sparred.
A habit born in the dust of birth itself, her lips were scarred.
YOU ARE READING
~Poem Book~
PoetryLike a Diary, This Book will be, Through my head blows a breeze, it makes the leaves freeze, Orange leaves falling down, This is my story, and I won't let it drown.
