The Psychic’s Reading
The psychic told her when she’d marry
told her when the baby would arrive
he got those right
but he never said she’d kill her husband
Never saw the nights she sat alone
counting bruises, counting lies
never guessed she’d stop being scared
He spoke of love, of vows and laughter
but never saw the knife in the drawer
or the blood on the floor
And he never said she’d do life for it
Now cell walls hold her future tight
no readings left, no second sight
child in a home lost mum and dad
tragedy took everything the child had.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
I once went to a psychic, and he told me my Tatts numbers. You know how that turned out and the rest of his predictions. 😒😒
Phenomenal work; such a tragic outcome...