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Poem.

The woman down the street,
stands on the corner and she
tells me love and life is not
as smooth as the road we 
were born to think it as.

I used to believe in fairy tales,
princes and princesses. I beli
-eved in love and some days
I do and some days it's not worth
a shot to look at it and say I believe
in it.

It's a sad hope, knowing you lost
everything that you had in your
hands and the blood staining your
once claimed of purity, does his
hands look red? Dripping blood.

He killed what was in me.

The priest several streets down from
the church tells me that life was never
pure in the first place and it gives me
hope and so I believe in him.

Waking up lately felt like a tarnished
cloud of a dream that was one.
A long time ago there was a little girl,
believe in dreams and was ripped away

from things that were called innocence.
The man preaches about God and I
wonder if my belief ever managed to stay.
After life tore up what was already close

to be tarnished.


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Poem. The woman down the street, stands on the corner and she

2 faves · Oct 19, 2015 10:16pm

Sweden*

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Sweden*


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