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Literature Text
He gave his trust to quickly,
as he did his heart,
he should have hit on me,
but never ever loved.
I should have warned him sooner,
told him not to swoon,
but my lovely demenor,
took his heart too soon.
He calls me his angel,
but only I know the truth,
that I am a enchantress,
with a heart of char,
and soul of too suit.
as he did his heart,
he should have hit on me,
but never ever loved.
I should have warned him sooner,
told him not to swoon,
but my lovely demenor,
took his heart too soon.
He calls me his angel,
but only I know the truth,
that I am a enchantress,
with a heart of char,
and soul of too suit.
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Comments1
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I wish this poem wasnt true, but unfortuantly, it is in my case.
-sigh-
-sigh-