Would you like to hear a poem? · 8:00pm Mar 31st, 2017
There once was a child abused;
When called to the light, she refused;
She gave into temptation
But was led to deprivation,
And from her skin, she oozed.
Blood was running, breaking free;
It kept rushing, full of glee;
It was like a waterfall with a color,
No slowing at all, she’d surely suffer.
But there was no sign of reaping,
Not even pain,
Yet she remained weeping,
Not to abstain.
Iris wet; iris red; iris never dead,
Youngest heiress;
Spilt milk;
Iris wet; iris red; iris never dead,
Heart nonferrous;
Red silk.
Up until morning, simply mourning of love;
All alone on the throne, life undeserving of;
Shadows behind, but never forgotten;
Presence of mind, but mentally rotten.
There once was a child abused;
When called to the light, she refused;
She gave into temptation
But was led to deprivation,
And from her skin, she oozed.
