I blossom, borderline
enlarging, screaming, roaring to
the corners of my mind
I am your monster
I am what you left behind
what you fear was never buried
I am ugly, and therefore I am alive
I am honesty
I am witness to the evil ends of men
the depths to which a woman can descend.
I am a broken mirror,
self-concept shattered on the anvil of my aims,
innocence offered up for ransom;
My own experiment,
vice-twisted interest in the artistry of pain,
master and victim
betwixt the two I can do anything.
My lovers were razors,
each one a fallen idol in my mind,
each one another jagged bleeding line.
I blossom, borderline
hell bent on self-destruction I
painted myself in scars
went out to greet the cruel cold world
with open arms.
One day Ill get the greeting I deserve.















Comments
--
"Oh let me think it is not quite in vain
To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air"
~ Keats, "To Hope"
--
My Work: [link]
Street/Unprocessed: [link]
Nature: [link]
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