White on Red


Ever since I was little,
I frowned at the fruits that were bitter.

I was sweet,
Always thought deep.

My hair was black,
Ugly was what I lack.

People adorned me,
Sometimes that was hard to see.

As I was pushed away,
In a blanket of snow I lay.

I watch the snowflakes begin to fall,
Motionless, unable to crawl.

I heard crunching in the snow,
Nothing could repress the blade's glow.

I was ready for my step-mother to take me,
through the tip of his blade.

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