19
Ines Franco Fatzinger
Little Bit Left Your words, your presence Are like vultures Waiting for death, Taking pieces of my soul What little bit is left. What happened? I don’t recognize Whom I see In the mirror or In front of me. What once was special Now is poison in my life. Your charm is ever deceiving, Beautiful like a flower Sharp like a knife. I don’t want this. Your presence is a chokehold. I can’t breathe. I must go because My heart has turn cold.