Your touch was so gentle
Your voice was so kind
To think I could smite
Such a delicate existence
Makes me lose my mind
A man held up by mere strings and puppetry
So broken, so blind
As his tears mixed with blood
And your blood mixed with rain
Did devastation sink in
Indescribable pain
For it was his doing
And it was his hate
That took your life
And sealed your fate
For his blood was of silver
And silver needs blood
For a goddess of stars
And a tarnished flower bud
YOU ARE READING
The Usual Mr. Nordin
PoetryA squid man mourns for his murdered flower wife, Isabelle, and starts to suffer from schizophrenia and PTSD
