Hermione Femalton Poems
|42.||The Old Man||3/5/2009|
|47.||A Place In The Dark||5/11/2009|
|48.||Do You Remember?||5/11/2009|
|49.||The Day The People Died||4/3/2010|
|52.||I Love You||2/20/2009|
|55.||You'Re Not Faded||12/30/2008|
|57.||A Death Note||12/6/2008|
|58.||The Angel With Broken Wings||3/5/2009|
|59.||Bitterness Of Life||1/10/2009|
|61.||Want To Die||12/6/2008|
|63.||Just A Child||12/30/2008|
Comments about Hermione Femalton
Just A Child
Her face is cut and dirty,
Her clothes are ripped and torn,
She sheltered under door-ways;
Weary and forlorn.
Her fragile soul is broken
By her abusive past,
She's the kind of child
That grew up way too fast.
Her father, always drunk,
Her mother didn't care;
And when her father beat her,
Mummy wasn't there.
Her father drunk their money,
Her mother went quite wild.
She shouldn't have to cope with this;
She's only just a child.
(This is inspired by a twisted character I was playing in a school play)
Roses crawling 'round the vines,
see the blood, see the signs,
It's a game, my dear, my friends,
To the grave the roses send.
The night has died the petels black,
Once you go, you don't come back.