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Rhiannon
Poems
Mar 2016
Murderer
You're cutting off all my oxygen,
With your hand around my neck,
My eyes are going bloodshot,
The tighter your grip gets.
I would listen to your story,
Agree now and again,
But you don't seem to realise,
I killed my dearest friend.
Changed her into everything,
I wanted her to be,
Then put a bullet through her head,
Upon the count of three.
You think of me as average,
The way I've always been,
That's only because I pray to God,
To keep my soul clean.
And I know I am being morbid,
Trying far too hard,
But I still own a piece of her heart,
Kept in a glass jar.
One day the heart will grow moudly,
Then loose it's rhythm and beat,
But hopefully That will be the day,
I no longer have to breathe.
Written by
Rhiannon
United Kingdom
(United Kingdom)
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