You retain a soul that's incarcerated a writhing disease,
Though.... some way the blames' continually haunting me....
Hesitation has no right tugging heart strings,
let along, snarling moral abilities thwart head – swinging,
time yet hasn't soothed the sting;
Cut the insufficient blab,
why not insert the blade within chest to stab?
You've effectively proven words are nothing more than sweetened toxin sap.
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YOU ARE READING
Between an Aphrodisiac & a Loathing Place.
PoetryA collection of poetry that has been written from me (and my constant battle with wrecking insanity). Some will make sense; some will leave you with a big ole' question mark; but, like myself, not everything can be precise and make definite sense...
