Thinking when will it be my time to die,
as I watch the moon-lit sky
I burn beneath the sun light,
So I remain a creature of the night
My body burns with the desire of blood
I'm a huntress that must quench her thirst,
but I wish God would just kill me first
I will be here to watch the worlds tragic end,
so i must ask again
As I watch the moon-lit sky,
when will it be my time to die
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Poetry Pot
PoetryThe words are a jumble in my head, And they're trying to make their escape. So I grab some paper and lead, In order to get them straight. But they're jumbled around mixing together, Like some kind of Stew. So I put them all in a pot An offered to sh...
