When your danger was mistaken as adventure,
Causing frostbites to grow on my cementing heart,
It seemed my dull eyes developed disfiguring ulcers which tarnished my vision,
Because your lust was thought to be love.

While your manipulation was crowned as kindness,
My skin was being roughly tattooed with bruises and wounds,
It seemed my aura formatted from a cloud to a frigid speck of pathetic dust,
Because my submission was thought to be devotion.

While your destructive words seemed to be a gentle push,
I became trapped and forced,
While decaying poison was being injected within my fragile soul,
Because they labelled your control as being protective.

And now they call me cruel,
Inhumane and a monster,
When I don’t weep for their own ordeals,
When I don’t care about the pain they have experienced,
When I remain indifferent.

But I don’t mind,
Call me savage...ruined...changed...broken...nasty...
A monster?
Because I won’t and I don’t and I can’t
Feel one bit anymore.

She threw to many sharp stones.
So as her glass house tumbled down,
She would pick one of the shards of choir glass off the ground and use it
as a instrument.
Always playing the same violent violin piece across her dynamical skin.

Her mother always knew she had
a gift for music.
So when she heard the same solemn chorus pitching from the living room ceiling,
She darted to steal the show.

And become her daughters duet...her piano,
To hug her so tightly,
Singing and squeezing
Until her violin chords stopped bleeding.

God
If this life is really a test,
We were failures before birth.

Amen.

As your chaste wings fluttered
     Sheer and slick,
Astonishing was your glimmer of beauty against the inky ghosts of older humans.
My inward-obsessed mind needed no first thought,
I pursued your trail hurriedly,
Climbing over tree logs.

Animalistic to seize you,
As I had yet to touch such a uncontaminated creature of beauty.

So when I finally reached your flight,
My greedy hands fastened over your so delicate...petite body,
Twisting your divine white wings,
Disfiguring you monstrously.

I chased home quickly fearing you may fly away if let loose.
When safe inside I unlatched you in my kitchen,
To find only a
paste of ravaged white limbs.

Nostalgia punching,
I used your paste as face paint
To hide my crime from your siblings.

Then shrugged my shoulders
Started my day over
And went to find another
And another...and another.....
Young butterfly