![Kayla:]](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_O4whXS4X6sA/SRoxl6bL2wI/AAAAAAAAAFs/wLLtthzXCXY/S220/DSC03929edit1.jpg)
Drip, drip, drip
Blood falls to the floor
Her body looks like war
The weapon of choice?
A knife.
Knock, knock, knock
Mystery man is at the door
He breaks the lock
Her body drops to the floor
She screams in pain
Her blood begins to drain
She begins to cry
Because, she knows she won’t have time to say goodbye
Drip, drip, drip
Blood falls to the floor
Her body looks like war
The weapon of choice?
A knife.
A bloody knife
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
This is pretty dark, dear. Maybe we should lay off the horror films for awhile - LOL!
Haha, I love horror films. And its not my fault people die in my poems. :]
Um....you, like, WROTE the poems so, like, their death is of your doing, silly gal!
They deserve it, she shouldnt have been changing with the window open, she brought it upon herself! lol
even though, none of that happened in the poem.
Post a Comment