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Your Poisoned Darts
January 16, 2013
Your words, they sting.
And when they hit my heart,
You're like Cupid,
Only with poisoned darts.
They crush me, and they burn,
If only you knew how they
Make my anger churn!
Then would your utterances stop?
'Cause if they don't stop soon,
I'm gonna cry, fall dead, and
Pop, like a balloon.
© Andrea J., Marblehead, MA
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This article has 1 comment.
plebeian_dreamer said...
on Jan. 23 2013 at 5:18 pm
Nice poetry as always :)
