Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2010
During day, she is locked away
Although in night, she returns with spite
From the depths of depth itself, she awakes herself
No longer holding control, there is nothing to console
In fighting-there is no will, everything tried-she finds thrill
Hatred-yet love, devil-yet dove
Written by
Ica OToole
528
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems