Thursday, April 12, 2012

What a Tangled Web She Weaves

Purgatory was for Lisa Jones
An Eternity of writing love poems
Sad and Sick and filled with misty quips
Bout Blackened eyes and bloody lips
See Mr. Jones had been a mean old man
With violent eyes and angry hands
So on a Tuesday night she shot him dead
Done had enough of all his shit
Said wow.... Had a glass of wine
Chased it down with a suicide
To this day she don't mind what her curse is
More concerned with her verses

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