Stage Blood
Please don’t make me wash the blood from my hair
I know it’s sticky but I don’t care
It’s a simple token of a night
Where for once my heart it felt alright
For once I felt I was one of the greats
I was accepted and happy which is never my fate
And on the last eve of my romps in the glory
My face and hair wound up a little gory
But I don’t mind. Please don’t make me. It just isn’t fair
To force me to wash memories from out of my hair
Copyright © Anna Nomaly | Year Posted 2018
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