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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Relationship · #1703403
I wrote this poem in the nineth grade. It's not the best in the world, but I enjoyed it.
Night washes over the land
And blood drips from my hand
Broken dreams lay at my feet
My eyes burn with angry heat
Today I lost my love
No longer am I a dove
His hateful betrayal
Has left me weak and pale
With this blade of steel
He I did kill
I pray to my father
Yet, why even bother?
The deed has been done
I have lost not won
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