FLIPPED TRUTH

image

Her veil is
thorn,
Up, down, right,
left, centre.
The innocence of her
prudence destroyed.
Just a dark hybrid,
uncategorized.
Woman,
hold on to me,

Yet her hands
shatter,
Her plain smile
grunts,
Caressing the guns
of death.
Give her one last
stare;
You turned her, into
that stone-cold,
love assassin.

<a href="I Want to Know What Love Is“>

Ruth Brodrick
All rights reserved ©

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Author: I- read

This is a free blog aimed at watering poetic minds and quenching the thirst of readers. My passion for words commemorates the desires to speak the truth, interplay with emotions and voice the fights in troubled souls. Welcome to i-read..

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