Don't Play With Fire, Unless You Can Handle Getting Burned

a poem for me by someone close to me

I'd love to strap her down to the bed
And with a glimmer in my eye
Torture every last confession out of her
Have her bleed through her eyes
And down her pale cheeks as she sobs
She\'ll sob for what she did to you.

I'd love to bundle them like goatskins
And laughing lightly, as I ought,
Slowly set the grass beneath them aflame
Have them scream out their intentions
For shaming you with undue guilt
They’ll sob for what they did to you

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at December 22, 2003 18:10 | link | comments