In a brightly lit night,
Under the full moon,
There stood a girl,
Of undeniable beauty.
Her hair of ebony,
Her eyes of blue,
Her silk-like skin,
And her crimson lips.
But a flaw there was,
In her perfect being,
She was emotionless,
Practically dead.
Beyond her icy orbs,
You can see nothing,
But complete darkness,
Complete nothingness.
She couldn't laugh,
She couldn't cry,
She couldn't love,
She couldn't live.
She exists without a reason,
She's alive but dead inside,
But what made it nice is,
That she can be hurt no more.
2007-09-29
00:57:24
·
3 answers
·
asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry
thanks Dondi, that's so sweet. :D
2007-09-29
02:31:11 ·
update #1