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Jealousy
He made her jealous
on purpose he tried.
When the girl asked, "Do you love me?"
on purpose he lied.
He played with jealousy
like it was a game.
Little did he know
Things would never be the same.
His plan was working
but he had no clue.
How wrong things would go,
the damage he would do.
One night she broke down,
feeling very alone.
Just her and the blade,
no one else home.
She dialed his number,
he answered, "Hello".
She told him she loved him
and hung up the phone.
He raced to her house
just a minute too late.
Found her lying in blood,
Her heart had no rate.
Beside her was a note,
in it her confession.
Her love for this boy,
her only obsession.
As he read the note,
he knelt down and cried.
Grabbed her knife,
that night they both died.
She was found in his arms,
both of them dead.
Under her note
his handwriting said:
"I loved her so,
she never knew.
All this time
I loved her
too."
I did not make this poem.
Kudos to the person who did.
 goomykins · Sat Nov 24, 2007 @ 01:50am · 0 Comments |
