I'm no queen of Sheba
But,
I make all the angels line up.
I cut all their wings off.
One
By
One
By wings, I mean heart
By heart , I mean soul
By soul, I mean ,
The
Very
Core
Of their existential being
I'm no queen of Sheba
But,
I wear a crown
made of shards of glass
Did you know
an angel's heart's made of glass?
Glass from fire and brimstone
I'm no queen of Sheba
But I smile like one
Smiles of broken glass
And broken bones
I'm no queen of Sheba
But my hands are
Akin
To claws of a crab
I'm no queen of Sheba
I'm a killer.
I killed a bull
With the venom of a scorpion
And drowned it in an aquarium of endless oblivion.
YOU ARE READING
A wonderland of her own
Thơ caWhen a man is flimsy with his words in his manner of speaking, he puts a pen on paper, inks his words and hopes to God, it's clear as glass what he feels inside. This is how Alice feels, her ink as muddled as her mind. Alice is me and these are my...
