To many faces I must escape
seeing fires of hell slaughter and rape
my eyes are burning my head is cold
new Devils born angels grow old,
take in my breath combusted lungs
words split my thoughts razor tongues. Eyes on me blind my own
I sit on sickle you sit on throne.
My throat runs dry my speech is slurred,
I give you my life words all you heard.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry that Poisons Those of Sound Mind
PoetryA Space of Words that Normally Come Together in a Sequence of Rhyme
