Poetry: Wicked - by Faye Daughterson

86 of 108

by Faye Daughterson

Created on: April 17, 2008

To me you are
Merely a puff ball
Full of warped fantasies
Turned to dust!
And each time someone
Presses near you,
A million nasty
wicked little spores
Spew ...
From your endless supply of
Hate, Greed and suspicion.

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Poetry: Wicked

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You're evil, heartless - wicked,
Rotten at your very core -
So nasty and so mean,
Not a redeeming factor, I am quite sure!
Lying
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Wicked sense, journey into the unknown

Walking past, whizzing by, shadows cast aside

Looking down, ignoring what's beneath
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You Call Me Wicked . . .

You call me wicked
Because I don't walk
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Wicked
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Tells me that all my lies
Will never amount to alibis
Though I continue to contrive
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by M. J. Joachim

Wickedly Beautiful
Wicked, darling, simply wicked
Decadent and daring
That lacy little lingerie
Beneath the dress you're wearing
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