She lied there lying in red.
On the ground weeping with dread.
What has happened I misread.
She killed a man because of bread.
Hungrily she gulped it down,
Glaring with a angry look,
I ran till I saw the trees.
I turned and she was behind me.
With a knife and a look,
She smiled, like a crook.
I looked around and ran again,
Right there she ran too,
Fast as the feet could go.
I grabbed a branch and hit her again,
I whacked and smacked till she was dead.
Looking at my art of death,
I called it the Battered Woman of Red.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Slam
PoetryThis is a bunch of poetry that I write and it's about different things. Read to find out more. The drawings aren't mine they belong to there respected owners. I wouldn't say it's mature but idk if it's for kids either .-.
