She walks out in moon,
In a gown of black frost,
With a fistful of smiles,
Crushing thousand ambitions,
She walks in the air of pride.
No regrets no rues,
No duties no dues,
She lives on her terms,
She'd crumble objects in her path,
Her voice is the only on her ground.
Nightmares are the show pieces,
In her mansion,
Nobody hears screeches,
Daggers and swords of hard ice,
She'd kill you with pain so nice....
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts from an old diary
PoetryFeel free to vote and comment if you enjoy reading! (Previously known as "Poetry On Fingertips") •2nd Position in The Crown Awards 2020 •#1 in #poetryislife -28/June/2020 •#1 in #poetrylovers -26/Feb/2019 And plz don't copy my book, Truyen.
