I mistook a hand of my blood for beauty. A parent is supposed to love not hurt.
I was soon to part. I ran away. For days, I lived behind an apartment, forging signatures to get to school.
But another hand, a hand of true beauty took it. The hand of diamonds, the touch as gentle as a Hawaiian breeze.
I miss waking up to someone who really cared. Mother... how could you? Father, who dared to do such a thing? Step-Mother, why did you do those things?
I don't care anymore.
I have a hand to hold. There's no one left to scold. A heart is born to mold. To mold into a hand to grab another.
This hand was beautiful.
I love you.
Loveless Poet Crest
· Sat Oct 23, 2010 @ 03:11am · 0 Comments