Work Text:
The Bride
by sablerose2
sablerose2@sbcglobal.net
Swirling turning I think of hurling,
Someone stop this ride, I need to
run and hide.
Talking walking I think he's stalking
me with his unholy eye's.
Never knowing emotions flowing
like a river over full feeling
kinda like a fool, like standing naked
in the middle of school.
Scary, wary time is hairy from the other
Side, as I wait to be taken as his bride.