or sign in with e-mail
by miranda miller Apr 7, 2009 category : Sadness, depression / lost relationships
Grab your jacket just go, Six more seconds and ima blow Grab your hair and rip it out, Ill show you what my minds about Murder, it always seems to creep, Blood, always knee deep Cant get the thoughts out of my head, They even tuck me into bed Mothers, fathers, Sons, and daughters None are safe from my notorious spree This was not how this was suppose to be He gutted her, left her crying, Left her bloodied and dying Chained her and hit her senseless, He doesn't understand she was done with this With a knife, he slits her throat, It was all in the note she wrote She lived to see another day, Hatchet in hand, she says the one thing she loves to say "I love you" her sigh, "But today is the day you die"
by Poet Keen
I like the way U rhyme ...