Iris Poem by Elizabeth Clair

Iris



Her eyes red as fire.
Her favorite weapon is the piano wire.
Her hair as silver as the moon.
She always had a look of gloom.
She kills for no reason, no matter the season.
Her heart full of pain.
As her victims twitch in strain.
What water will wash these bloody hands?
She sits all alone.
In her confined little home.
Away from the world.
Such as the life of a bounty hunter.
She bows her head and cries.
For no one cares if she dies.
She’s known to all as the girl who never smiles.
She is Iris the tortured one.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Tori Ocean 10 February 2006

beautiful. i realy like it

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Elizabeth Clair

Elizabeth Clair

Massachusetts.
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