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.