Buzzing they form a halo
She wears them like her cross
Pulsating, festering, beating
Coveting her like a prize
She smells sickly sweet
Out there in the sun
Her slow breathing
Cuts through me
Seizing my heart
Chilling me to the bone
She stumbles through a fog
Black, terrible and buzzing
She can’t see herself
Or the hole she crawls into
A soft sobbing pierces the swarm
She won’t wander alone
YOU ARE READING
Letting it Flow
PoetryLatest: Abyssal: Lonely I'll be, under the sea. Collection of my thoughts, feelings and all the stuff like that put in the form of either bad poetry or bad mini-stories. Either way, read it and call me a weirdo, I always liked being called that.
