Poison Heart

Your words cut deeper,

Than any backstabbing blade.

Lies so deeply rooted,

Belief in which you sincerely hold.

So I cast you aside.

Your poison heart like cancer,

Already eating me away.

And so this poets natutal instinct,

Is to portray his soul,

Within words on virgin paper.

And walking lonely walkways,

Trying to forget the pain of yesterday.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown 

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