LABYRINTHINE MIND
Her face is the treasure that monsters want to keep
with vacant eyes that hold horrifying memories.
Cursed is the hair hidden from hurtful grasps,
coarse is the skin from their impermissible, licentious touch.
Crying on the bed with a knife in her trembling hand—
her lifetime trauma in your moment of weakness.
The memories echoing deep inside her mind
like a broken record held by a broken child.
This war isn't fair—it hasn't been since it started,
you stand on the pedestal she created with her mind distorted.
You relish this accomplishment; she drowns in the moments you left.
YOU ARE READING
NIGHTMARES
PoetryA collection of self-written poetry about the writer's nightmares and trauma.
