By every stitch awkwardly placed.
Does there linger a sting.
A colorless.
Vastness.
Of nothing.
A space.
Larger than any ravine.
Boundless.
Where even the brightest smile.
Drowned.
It was here.
In this same collection of wavering resolve.
A new smile was born.
Of lust.
And piercing wales.
One that fit ever so perfectly.
Tears and pain cascade through.
Yet it remained.
Begging.
Wretching.
Playing with this notion of spite.
And torture.
The blade driven by ones own hand.
Is the very one that knows this darkness all to well.
Hiltless.
Does it dive deeper.
And the black ooze finds a home.
In the abyss beyond.
For this.
Is the viciousness desired.
A circle of ridicule.
And tumble end over end.
Smile intact.
Mind.
Shambles..