Written 1990 while bored out of my brain in a class at N* Secondary College. Doesn't seem too bad for a not yet Goth, cathartic, disenfranchised teen, angst piece.
Skulls and bones
Deserts Dry
Unanswered phones
No questions "Why?"
Stab through heart
Blood runs red
Lovers apart
Cupid dead
Where as this could be used as an example of why teenage girls who dream of Robert Smith and Sylvia Plath should maybe not put pen to paper...
Pray thee peace
Enter my realm
Let me sleep
Deep in the ground
Death, oh, Death
To thee I beseech!
Take my life
Into your firm reach!
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