She was the mistress
A beauty of doom
Every night she
Had found a man
To consume
The men chirped
And they sang
But when the
Sun came up
She never returned
again
So they turned to
Alcohol for medicine
And thoughts of death
For comfort
The men's minds were
Insane
Shattered
Tortured
But they grew back
Twisted and dark
Just like the mistress's
Broken old heart
-a.j.c
YOU ARE READING
The Bullshit Journal ~ by a.j.c
PoesíaJust another idiotic poem book That will never be anything more And you probably won't read any of this. But if you do. You must have felt pain like this to understand any of it. If not, and you still understand. You're just lying to yourself.
