I am the dead walking.
The skeletons before
and behind me
Threaten and curse.

I don't move as smoothly
As I did once.

My body has been picked
Clean by the lies
I have told.

Self destruction is my forte.

The skeleton
Of my future
Sheds it's skin,
Moth shaped fragments
Flutter away
Carrying all promises of
Redemption and happiness.

Each false word
Sprays poison on my
Tongue
As it leaves my mouth.

The skeleton
Of my past
Crawls along with one hand,
Dragging your hurt soul
Chained to its ankle.

It wants to let go.

But the key has sunken
To the bottom of
A well,
Flooded with my various
Evil synchronicities.

I am hatred personified.

I am a liar and a good one.

Not even your undeserving,
Kindhearted,
Beautiful soul
Was safe from the
Rattle of my tall tales
And the sharp pain
Of bone
Through soft, innocent
Flesh.