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Blurby ~romanceofmurder
A Whore.s RepentanceBruised ego, lent out body Dress up, strip down, something gaudy. Clichéd phrases replace and take hold Death gripped heart, still and cold. She lost herself in the fine fare Down a path to degenerate nowhere. Empty soul, tired, fruitless heart Nothing seems worthwhile in impart. Standing mouth agape, tongue slack Words to express she seems to lack. Pen and page look alien and foreign Thought cast aside begs to be reborn. A struggle to catch her last gasping breath And then the next or she’ll have her death.A Whore.s Repentance
by ~romanceofmurder
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