Mar 2013
Tangled in the humid jungle
Lays the mess that's called my heart
Come, the mighty, fearsome Tiger
To tear and slash and rip apart
Insects crawl along remains
Glitter in the fading moon
Carve a path of empty holes
To fester in a growing wound
Rain upon the ruined scraps
Wash away the ****** stream
Pour upon the pillaged flesh
Hollowed by a silent scream
Lays the mess that's called my heart
Come, the mighty, fearsome Tiger
To tear and slash and rip apart
Insects crawl along remains
Glitter in the fading moon
Carve a path of empty holes
To fester in a growing wound
Rain upon the ruined scraps
Wash away the ****** stream
Pour upon the pillaged flesh
Hollowed by a silent scream
I wrote this when I was very bored during end-of-the-day study hall. I asked my innocent friend what I should write a poem about, and she creatively said 'the jungle'. I surprised her with a very vivid image of a different kind of forest.
