Why won't it leave me
Alone?
Slow, her grip choking, my fists clenching
The spectacle of bones.
Others cannot help nor see
The ribbons red, fabric drenching
Silently
Ravaging hell-bent fires
Pulling at the seams
Of my "reality"...
Speckled grime burns the skin; I scream
At the empty heartless liar
He sees in me.
Further burrowing helplessly into the mires
Of undeserved retribution
Facing any mirror
Her subliminal sneers, both
Revolting and simultaneous praise?
Her empty-headedness I desperately loathe.
I still, can hear her!
Regardless any futile frustrated craze...
The truth will always hurt.
MUSINGS #7: Moments of self reflection often return an individual to their former state of selfish comfort and peacefully relaxed nature.
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Musings: A Poetry Compilation
PoetryPoetry and prose for the poets out there eager to get their helpings of more and more of the written page...because there is never enough ink to satisfy the soul.
