The knife in my grip,
Her blood on my hands.
As her breathing slows,
Mine picks up a pace,
Accompanied by my venom-fuelled smile.
I've got nowhere to run,
Nowhere to hide.
Oh, my heart filled with cyanide,
Won't you hold me close and make me hope to die?
You'll loosen the laced string,
Undo the knots,
Start to crumble,
And I'll eventually fall apart.
YOU ARE READING
Venting In Verses
PoetryI vent here through my own poetry. The first few pieces aren't that good but I'm keeping them up to track my progress. So... enjoy, I suppose!
