12
You taught me how to hate someone
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Fingernails sharpened by unasked questions
Eyes glow red from empty pretense
Horns grow from horrific hopes
That curl into this moments' violence
Succumb to self, resort to substance
Perform the mother of all evils
Too weak to just forsake these urges
I hope you rot a hundred thousand years in hell
Bloodied, bruised, and wrongly used
Robbed of movement, stolen senses
With scant shielding from a mind forsaken
Stained with brimstone, left defenseless
Yet somehow in spite of this horror
the world still dares proceed to turn
Treacherous, lecherous, lopsided spinning
Still it turns
How dare it turn
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- 11 months ago
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