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You gave me credit for stabbing your Heart,

But you can’t stab something that’s made of stone.

Your name will be forgotten,

But you will live on in my works,

A sad little name less person.

How spiteful is that?

How many of the things I have written were about you,

you will never know,

ohhh you can guess,

and suggest,

but only I know.




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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/12209/91241 on Thursday November 20th, 2008 11:43 AM

Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)