The Bad Poem by Amanda Larsen

Nobody consoles the perpetrator
For the roots of the evilest habits
Nobody justifies the penetrator
For the breaking of innocent dreams

Monsters cannot breathe
And monster hearts will never beat
The act of loving any demons
Was never for the sane

See her eyes
Her hands are sinners
But her eyes are flame
And there is youth behind the wrinkles of her pain

There is an angel in her past
And something
Somewhere
Forced that angel not to last

Her fingers smell of smoke
Of innocence that broke
And the reminders of her burdens
Is what they think of as trash.