Gnarled beast looks back at me.
Its soulless eyes beading down,
my palms slick with anxious, heart-wrenched sweat.
I reach my finger up to meet the squishy, blackened holes.
They sit where eyes should be,
Soully ******* holes in the middle
Flaked, skin flinches at contact,
the action reverberating through my callous finger tips.
I push harder, blood rushes over tawny wrenched flesh,
cracking beneath my nail beds
and thickly seeping to my fingerprints.
Slowly I retract my hand,
moving it to my own snow pale skin.
The blood stains and my wrinkled soul emerges.
      -This Is My Truth