Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Pretty bare rib cage Rabid butterflies pick At flesh in rage. My fire is out The steamy shower burns My hands they bleed And blister red. Stoic smile Bloodshot eyes Words slip past my lips as lies. But I believe... Oh yes the stories. Tainted doves fly free, impurities. You know it's a problem when all you have left is these tainted doves.
0
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
Empty
Pretty bare rib cage Rabid butterflies pick At flesh in rage. My fire is out The steamy shower burns My hands they bleed And blister red. Stoic smile Bloodshot eyes Words slip past my lips as lies. But I believe... Oh yes the stories. Tainted doves fly free, impurities. You know it's a problem when all you have left is these tainted doves.
chelsea-nicole-gray
Written by
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem