Ms De Meanour
Fangs sink in through the skin
clawing my grin no one foresaw.
No one foresaw the misery
I'm not sorry for the mystery
held in me. I'm not sorry
for the worry, and your fury and
I guarantee not a single emotion that
tingles inside your bones can prepare
for the care you'll get.
The throne you took, you've been
overthrown.
You shook.
You mistook me.
Not a single ring of sense, or an act
I bring and commence can rid of
the swing you made.
Not one.
No one.
No one can clean your stake of misery
I'm not sorry for the mystery held inside of...
Copyright © Writing Muse | Year Posted 2024
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