enslaved
blood drips down my sickly body.
blade like a brush dancing across my delicate skin.
painting a lovely picture.
a puddle of blood and tears pooling at my feet.
this is how i go.
at the command of the blade, my lover.
my enslaver.
Copyright © Cecily Grace | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment