i bite my lip, along with my tongue.
the wicked game, the fast fame grew too much.
the blue bird watches on the rope of no hope.
id love to know the complete story.
mona always said that she had come to hate her body, and all the things disturbing it.
she's just another teenage girl with girl problems with such beautiful hateful words.
the bath water is now left cold, monas grown too old to be loved and all the above.
the worthless string of hope snapped.
she should cry but she can't, she knew this longer than i've ever known.
YOU ARE READING
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Poetry'baby come on over, come on over to my side well i may not live past twenty one, but, what a way to die' the pleasure seekers
