I Didn't Know That Boy's BledIt's incredibly natural (and painful),More Like This
for a girl past thirteen to have her cycle.
It separates us from the boys, and it makes us all girls,
makes us females, different from the males of the world.
Boys don’t bleed, be they gay, straight, or bi,
trans, or whatever. That’s a girl’s given right.
So why on earth is their blood in his seat?
Dried remnants of crimson in his sheets?
I’m just a maid working for some snack money,
so I don’t know much of what doesn't concern me.
Though I follow with my eyes, his mother who stalks,
to his room at night without sparing an evening talk.
With blankets she leaves as quietly as she came,
though I swear I see a hint of auburn on her hands.
Sometimes I swear she brings her rambunctious friends.
Untrustworthy men, and even vile women.
I’m just a maid, so I’ll just keep my peace.
I’m just a maid, I’ll clean his blood from the sheets.
I think he’s become a corpse as of recent,
Playing the VictimHe lunges forward towards her , and she stands there, just smiling.More Like This
Hit me, she taunts, and at this, his angry fist nearly goes flying.
Like a ferocious lion barring its fangs at a wolf adorned in lambs skin,
the bitch just bats her eyes, and plays the “victim”, behind her hair, a feral grin.
It's getting too dangerous, he's getting to strong,
he'll break free from my grasp, and do more than break her arm.
She flips dark hair like the wipers on a car, and it's darkness mirrors that of her hollow soul.
He's nearly out of my grasp now, this is going to far. We're digging ourselves into a black hole.
“Get away! You're not wanted here!” I scream so loudly,
I fear that blood leaks from my ear, but I've garnered my reaction proudly.
“Why should I have to go!” Her watery eyes shout at me,
“I'm the victim, he's trying to hurt me!”
“You manipulative bitch,” I think to myself loudly,
and as I yell another “Go
She's Just as CapableShe killed him with a smile that burned.More Like This
His neck was red with scorch marks,
though some people defined them as hickeys.
When he came back around the cool air bit at him,
it dissected him, poked at his naked skin.
He had trouble dispelling the drugs that cursed through his system.
She sat there, bra intact, though panties thrown
somewhere along the floor, or mixed in the sheets.
“It was fun” she smirked, though she looked displeased.
“Don't tell anyone,” she whispered with a smirk,
tracing her fiery fingers on his back,
leaving a trail of black soot.
The drugs wore off slowly,and he was coming back.
If she continued to touch him,
he could maybe twist her neck.
It was self defense, was it not?
But what would he say to the authorities?
Would he even be believed by the cops?
He ran out, faster then his legs could carry him,
she was his teacher, he was only sixteen.
He had to tell the cops, but would they even believe him?
His clothes were tattered and hardly
Guilty or Innocent♦ RULEMore Like This
You can only say "Guilty" or "Innocent".
Kissed one of your friends?
Danced on a table in a bar?
Ever told a lie?
Had feelings for someone whom you can't have?
Ever kissed someone of the same sex?
Kissed a picture?
Slept in until 5 p.m.?
Fallen asleep at work/school?
Held a snake?
Been suspended from school?
Worked at a fast food restaurant?
Been fired from a job?
Done something you regret?
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose?
Caught a snowflake on your tongue?
Kissed in the rain?
Sat on a roof top?
Kissed someone you shouldn't?
Sang in the shower?
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on?
Shaved your head?
Had a boxing membership?
Made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?
Eaten alligator meat?