by Devina


It sounds just like a well composed song,

Written by the gods, fate dancing along,

She in a torn up dress drowned in tears,

And he who holds the knife eventually wins.


It starts with loud cries of who’s to blame,

When she’s too tired to play any game,

A once clear mind now turning insane,

Now she keeps losing with nothing to gain.


He crushes her only heart in his cold hands,

She asks for help and watches as it lands,

Bleeding out, color fading on the ground,

The once red beating heart now turning brown.


The winner walks away, leaving her alone,

In the darkness and she is on her own,

He then remembers and returns to the doomed,

To find her and pour salt on her wound.


It sounds just like a well written song,

With the broken being the one on the wrong,

Then he who loves less will again greet,

The button that’ll let the song repeat.

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