Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 13
It is too late -
The thick stench of sin has set root in my marrow
And my bones have begun to rot.

I can feel myself breathing blood,
So I crane my neck until I hear a bone snap.

I try and try to run to the toothless moon
Spilling screams and red satin,
But the long hallway leads nowhere.

A wolf at heart,
I rip the tainted skin from my fingertips
And breathe life through the wound.

I wish I could see God
Falling from his mighty perch

Just as I see the devil
In the stained marble of my bathroom sink.
Written by
Olivia  19/F
Please log in to view and add comments on poems