A Crime of Passion

They say that there's no point crying over spilt milk

Why the hell, am I then shedding tears over you?

You are the very manifestation of childish pettiness

Sometimes I wonder why you're here; in the real world

And how you escaped the backstabbing environs of Gossip Girl

At others I wish I could reduce you to a pile of ashes

With just one of those death glares I'm famous for

Or that I could cut into your soul with you words

And maim you just deeply as you've scarred me

I want, somedays, to grow my nails so long, into talons

And gouge out that corrupt little soul of yours

It's evil and cunning, and entirely unused to losing

Therefore, it repulses me with an unbelievable force

Again, I'm left wondering why my eyes smart and water

When I see you flash that smile, not at me, but at her

Author's Note: I do not know the cause for the violence in my recent poetry. It baffles me, as much as I'm sure it baffles you.

Review please; I'll review back if your work isn't M Rated.