littlemisscloud writes

Their Thirst For Martyrdom

I was caught

 leaving my keys hung on my gate

 for the third time today 

and as I walked past

 these walls spoke 

with such petty thoughts among themselves 

at how I've been loading in

 empty little trifles

 of other people's luckless vicissitudes

 it must have been such a grimy sight

 to witness the becoming of one's soul 

stir into something soggy

 whenever those early birds cyclically

 herded her path 

with filthy palms straight

 to a murder's scene

 -a.