Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
blackbiird Sep 2020
Beneath the garden
shed, her bones bleed
Without much notice of
decay.

Smells of rotten garbage
Permeated the building
Of her demise
Without much notice of
isolation.

Souless, lifeless carcass
Becomes her as she loses
Unconsciousness beneath the
Rotting soil.

And the malevolence
Took over.
aa Dec 2017
I was at a place where sadness became comfort. Sadness became the cozy home I never had. A place where I belong - a home that welcomed and accepted me. It was where I came back to at the end of the day. It was the only thing that waited for me and the only thing that wanted me. These days whenever I'm near the edge - I can hear them calling me. Malevolent croonings telling me to come back home.
"I wanna let go but there's comfort in the panic."
Viseract Aug 2016
Cold steel chains
Constricting pain
Burning sensations
Sanity slain

Heavy weight
Against my skin
Unforgiving
Relentless head-spin

Dry bloodstains
A malicious mark
Guilty as charged
*Repeat, restart
Clearly observing the wicked danger lurking within you…
What a paradox to witness a change of benevolence ridiculed by your truth.
If only you understood what it takes to genuinely smile,
You could move mountains across those magnificent cerulean skies.

Even after our unpleasant confrontations, so cruel and wry.
You deliberately chose to dance around to a distinctive rhyme.
Using your words of trickery, resembling a serpent hissing fear.
You untiringly strived to strike fatal arrows through an artificial crack on my fortified shield.

I gave you only one chance to earn my professional trust.
Then you destroyed it with mendacities absconding from your Machiavellian filthy mouth.
Candidly, after foreseeing your vile pestilence emerging from within.
I erupted in an outburst of laughter to have ever believed in your skin of sin.

Beware, you have revealed an irrevocable glitch that is deceitfully sly.
It portrays tyranny and narrow mindedness, depreciating with every malicious try.
Running cunningly through your veins oozing massive animosity in disguise.
Have you not scrutinized the gruesome language intensely stimulated from your heinously gazing eyes?

By: Michael M. De La Fuente
"I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their ***** feet." - Mahatma Gandhi

— The End —