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Helen
Poems
Apr 2016
Where Even the Dead Fear to Tread
Imperfect lines carved into skin
etched in deep by sharpened pin
tiny road maps to insanity
little. tiny. tracks.
of inhumanity
Gouged into a perfect slate
filled with blood and sealed with hate
a rutted path to macabre damnation
no salvation in the ruination
A meandering road in total eclipse
from empty eyes to barbed wired lips
to the broken heart so badly stitched
stretching all the way to
apocalypse
Fragmented memories line the paths
edged by tears of broken glass
echoing in silence of words unsaid
these are roads even the dead fear to tread
#selfharm
Written by
Helen
nowhere special
(nowhere special)
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