Two years, too late–
poison becomes familiar;
buried hatchets–
excavated case of mania.
She shoots him off
with words, she didn't think at all;
little she knows,
I'm a belladonna, after all.
Shut your sinful mouth,
all of your sayings unwise you;
I'm Belladonna–
a poison straight into your soul.
You speak less when loud–
thinking you're better than I do;
I'm Belladonna–
a poison you're diving into.
YOU ARE READING
Abandoned
PoetryI come before you asking to come here and see- here lies a poetic anthology of pain, deception, and agony... Abandoned. (2024)
