Stale rust of an alcohol mixture
Painful blows toward the delicate statue
each hit breaks off another piece
each curse dents another hole
_why do it? why do anything?
_do you get some sick pleasure by
Breaking
_this delicate statue
_this soul inside forgotten
Bruised with dents of internal discouragement
Hanging and hovering, this statue is invisible
tears pour out like the windy rivers current
invisible not seen
_inside it hurts
_outside only looked at, and yes-
This delicate statue has the scars
hiding them
--Lies on the ground a pale body
covered with dirt
cold hands of the heartless corpse
face of a newborn child
This solid soft ground, it will care for, and bring in, comfort this
 
Copyright © bloodtakesover, All Rights Reserved