kashshaptu

Lust?

I lie
to protect your pride.
These secrets are devouring me,
A gluttonous child feasting on nothing but hopeful desires,
Never satisfied.
Shreds of the rose,
Given to you by a little girl,
lay on the ground,
as she dreams of a love that cannot be,
Yet was.
Your hurtful words,
Slice into her flesh,
Drops of blood fall to the earth.
Blood that should be yours.
The child that is dying,
Whos gods have forgotten,
Weeps,
Neverending tears,
This child...
Who should be you...