Publisher's Synopsis
Dear prince charming,
don't you know she bled? All the 'I love you's between your cigarette breaths
were the only lies you said
Dear prince charming, don't you know she smiled? with knives in her back
much like a girl gone wild
Dear prince charming, don't you know you were her only light? but it wasn't
her on top of you last night.
Dear prince charming, was loving you such a crime? perhaps that's why they say
commit full time.
the villainous kind.
She was born in a living starlit nightmare-
the most impossible to find. Aftermath of brutality,
never looked this lustful.
You always did say
that she was quite the handful. Because you bled red, they say
murder is an art.
The knife was her paint brush,
perhaps yours was where she'd start. To take away a life is to play God
in the Devil's playground.
You won't be laughing when your
angel is hell-bound. This is not a poem of love, but a book for those walking
with a bleeding heart.
After all, Hell is a writer's bedside table and Heaven
is a completed draft.
