Red looks pretty on you
He told me when I was covered in blood
You are sexier now, like an empty canvas turned into art
You were so boring, when you were cold and white
Now you're colorful and warm, with these traces on your butt
I couldn't say a thing, I belonged to him
I was his property, he bought me on a whim
When my addict dad sold me, to buy some heroine
—prana
YOU ARE READING
Red looks pretty on you
Poetrypoems about harsh stories which unfortunately are true.
