Lady


What the light has seen, the lady don’t care for.
Her heart is as hard as rusted gold.

The bitch of your life has no life in her soul.


She’s no good to you.

A pit in the ground for you to shit in.
She cuts your throat when you look to ugly.

Careless to your love is she, with her raven red hair and perfect dried blood lips.

She calls you to her with her skin.

What a beautiful girl.
She’s made out of gold.

She’s yours.
The cold wrinkled body of her soul shackles you to her hell.
poem © by Lin M.L.



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