Milly's Poems

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Sheila

10/2010


Blood Red covered her finger nails.

They were as long as a nail you’d

use with a hammer, dangerous.

The way she walked around you thought

She’d killed someone.

Maybe she had.

She didn’t say much, she was one of those.

Just sat on the couch in isolation.

In her own little ward,

not paying attention to the world around her.



Posted by Milly at 7:51 PM

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