Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Her short skirt wanted it they said.
Her painted dark red lips asked for It they said.
Her mouth said no but her body said yes they said. 
It's not his fault they said 
  She walked around gloomy, but of coarse it was for attention they said. 
The bottle pressed to her lips asked for more they said. 
The empty pill bottles were to forget but she was asking for it again they said 
Her painted lips and short skirt started to believe what they said, no longer was it a bottle
That bottle soon became the gun in her hands and the shot glass was the trigger 
But ofcoarse it's not her fault anymore they said 
Her death is a tragedy they said. 
It's too late she said.