You lift me on the coldfloor

January 23, 2008
By Brianna Flowers, Gonzales, LA

You lift me on the coldfloor,
after you drained my blood you headed to the door,
you only wanted me for my blood.
I thought you had been my best bud,
you had came to my room late at night,
your black hair struck by the silver moonlight.
You only told me that you wanted a hug,
then you bit me and left me to die,
on the bloody stained rug.


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