Dear prince charming,
Don't you know she bled ? All the 'i love you's' between your cigarette breaths were the only lies said.
Dear prince charming, don't you know she smiled ? with knives in her back much like a girl gone wild?
Dear prince charming, don't you know you were her only light? but it wasn't her on top of you last night.
Dear prince charming, was loving you such a crime? perhaps that's why they say, commit full-time.
But, my darling she was true to her grace-the villianous kind.
She was born in a living starlit nightmare, the most impossible to find
Aftermath of brutality, never looked this lustful.
You did always say, she was quiet the handful.
Because you bled red, they say murder is an art,
The knife was her paint brush, perhaps yours was where she'd start.
To take away a life, is to play god in the devil's playground
you wont be laughing when your angel is hell bound.
It's not a love poem, but a book for those walking with a bleeding heart.
After all, hell is a writers bedside table and heaven is a completed draft.
