Ugly Poem by Hillfigure Sackey

Sweet honey suckle smell of true heaven; a slow whisk of the wind lending a grateful handful of freshness. The silent pouring of the heavens murmuring, all’s at peace. Simultaneously a smile it draws from my insides, because all’s well. Jolly as ever, more so than any wench that walked this earth. What a bloody idiot I am to think alls well, to think all's well when devils lie on my dream pillow. In my home; bed once friendly, now a pit for snakes, soiled; stinking snakes. Devils whose harsh breath, sweat entwined bodies remains juxtaposed together so masterfully as if a print by Horst, oblivious of the stick with whom they tramp on. Ugly it is, ugly, as ugly as a Pollocks. With a single rise of the head the beasts become aware swiftly stepping into the skins they shed to unravel their true selves. Baby don’t go, it was… is a mistake. I love you.Words that was once moist in beauty now dried and withered. Words which brought happiness, now mocking as it leaves a trial of sadness in its wake. Now profoundly ugly.