Anita flies high
Without leaving her room
Her music heard
In the flat above.
She has needle holes in
Her legs and arms
One in her neck
And a frozen smile.
Everything she sells
Cost ten quid for her bag
Anita doesnt care
Anitas not sad.
Her world it involves
People like her
Who listen to music
With the same frozen stare.
-
Author:
nephilim56 (
Offline) - Published: May 21st, 2024 12:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.