You wanted money and fame.
To you I was an obstacle on the way.
You threw me away like an withered flower.
Knives went well on your hands.
You’d kill for your pleasures.
I wanted my innocence.
I wanted my trust.
I couldn’t have them back.
It was time to grow up!
-
Author:
amethyste (
Offline) - Published: November 9th, 2025 13:18
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1

Offline)
Comments1
Age matters not, we all have to grow up at some point of die an infant death. A poignant write
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.