Threadbare robes in the living room cathedral
A rag stuffed in my throat could be yet more breathable
Then the mark on my skin of a religious foreigner
Burning from the Virgin Mother standing in the corner
"The lord will cleanse your mind" they say but I can't feel his touch
"Your love'll be pure like mine" they scream but I can feel no lust
Hold me to my mother's chest let me be wrapped and coddled
Hold me to the wall by neck let me feel the jagged bottle
Give me not the feathery touch
Hold me not to fair caress
I'll be victim to your misjudge
Drowned in my baptism dress
Strangle me with my rosary beads
Burn me in hellfire
I may yet fall for the lords great deeds
As I greet him in the pyre
Chain me down upon the altar
Separate me from sin
Scream passages from your psalter
And carve purity in my skin
Spare me not each stinging word
Gift me all the blessed pain
Empty me out 'til I am cured
And wash my blood away with rain
YOU ARE READING
Forest of Stanzas
PoesíaA collection of poems. Some are dark, some don't make sense, all are mine. Feel free to comment a title or prompt and I'll write one for you.
