11-17-17
Heard about a cross.
Archery along her back,
But arrows in her touch
And I threw them at you
And that'll work,
Until you notice me.
Crucifixion hanging heavy
In a house of demons,
Look what you fucking did.
You crossed the courts you play,
And now you're fucked-
Straying from what was meant
For you.
For them.
For me.
Weaving in and out,
Loops of jagged edges.
We're like strings
And you're made of lighters
And gasoline.
There's a point we meet,
A point we leave-
And I don't know which side I'm on.
- (m.m)
YOU ARE READING
Self Deception
PoetryPoetry 2017 And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I...
