Little King of Sorrows
The alluring scent lingers in disaster's wake,
but I shall hold my breath,
for the stench of desire will only suffocate my soul once again,
enticing aroma of a bittersweet death.
Those piecing blue sapphires picking apart my daily thoughts,
to be retarded and brain-dead the only defense,
for thinking is forever linked to feeling,
a dagger to the soul that can never make sense.
The most haunting echo's singing a tormented serenade,
of friendship betrayed by sinful lust,
the purest words now stained by the blackness of confusion,
what I hear, never again shall I trust.
The most chilling of goosebumps dance in mockery,
a spirit trespasses my form despite inner protests to stay clear,
for as long as the unknown exists within me,
the purpose of this visit is what I fear.
The dryness of words unspoken stifle my sounds,
the bloody aftertaste of harsh words uttered in rage,
muted by a memory I can't spit away,
I continue to lick the bars of my self-created cage.
© 2013 L.K.Sorrows
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