deepundergroundpoetry.com
Murdered in the Home
You're not the person I trusted with my life,
You're not the person who calls me their wife,
You're just the person holding the knife.
Murdered in my own, now bloody, home.
How do you live without your own soul?
You lie to my face while cutting me with holes.
You're not the person who calls me their wife,
You're just the person holding the knife.
Murdered in my own, now bloody, home.
How do you live without your own soul?
You lie to my face while cutting me with holes.
Published 14th Mar 2015
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