Ruthless

Who is this?      Dead girl walking Like a plague      You she’s stalking You can run      And try to hide Sins catch up      Net too wide You shared yourself      And something more Said serves her right      She’s just a whore Creeping, death comes      Little ones alone Six feet under      Dead and gone But revenge is hers      You get your due And then you know      That hell is true. DW © 4-4-04 Back to the Poetry Page Copyright © 2003-2004 Designs