Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2019
seven years passed like the phases of the moon,
since her parents had their last fight,
their marriage stained maroon.
ever since, she stayed with Daddy,
always on the run.
she learned to live a life of crime,
and to never trust anyone.
now she’s all but sixteen,
but her hands are stained in blood.
she shot the sheriff where he stood,
his crimson tears a flood.
Ithaca
Written by
Ithaca  19/Home
(19/Home)   
1.1k
     Fawn and unnamed
Please log in to view and add comments on poems