Once was young and full of life,
Now is lying there with a knife.
From pale skin runs rivers of red,
Very soon now, she'll be dead.
What a pity, what a shame,
Like a candle without a flame.
Oh what a pity, what a shame...
YOU ARE READING
Little Pieces of Me
PoetrySome of my poetry about my feelings, things from the past, nightmares, pretty much anything I guess.
