She cried,
He smiled.
She bled,
An ecstasy he felt.
She grew pale
By each passing day,
She was numb,
Couldn't feel anything
Until she'd cut and bleed.
The weaker she grew,
The stronger he brewed.
The devil was in ,
Gaining control,
Taking over her soul,
And with every drop ,
He won.
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•єηтαηgℓє∂ ιη ωσя∂ѕ•
Poetryᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴘᴏᴇᴍs. ©-cuddlee- ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ sᴍɪʟᴇs ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴛᴏ sʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ɪs ғɪɴᴇ. ᴀ ʙᴏʏ ᴡʜᴏ sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅs ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴡɪsʜᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪs ʟɪғᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇɴᴅ. Ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴡ, ...
