Oh,
You skin me raw.
Not to the bone,
But to the redness underneath.

Oh,
The dew of dawn,
Plots its land,
On my stale pink cheeks.

The promised land
Was never there.
For you lie when you talk.

I should've guessed
My own demise
For you are loud when you stalk.

Oh,
My mother dearest,
This is farewell,
Short and curt.

Oh,
don't mind the merest
because you are simply
to me
dirt