Grim-filled Lullabies

Won't Let You Win

Certain, I may never be thought of from you,

static still slithers mine ears through;

-

afraid days will remain partial to creeping haunts,

cozily linger down throat to taunt'

harsh, sluing worse bits of dilapidated remnants –

its' hardly fair,

dispense morsel deluge atop needed flare

ripped plentiful holes for water not to spare;

time engulfed its' fun with minutes miserably spent,

pulling forcefully out with hand erected ascent –

as horrible regurgitated images overshadow any good,

realizing strength swells

exhaustively, scatter these sustaining parts as should;

-

unusual, how we were created,

others had hold of hands,

though

entrapped of all the possibilities awaited,

intrigued could be easily spelled on eyes serrated,

temptation: a dangerous fiend activated.