"maliced" poems
Nothing's scarier than knowing the heart is just a muscle
That true love doens't exist in the body
And it was foolish to give you the essence of my being and to
Expect you to pay me back with anything less than your own heart
This is where trust gets me?
I've never felt more solitary in my life
Why spill my guts if you're just gonna eat em?
Enjoy the fact you're an animal
A cannibal
A ************* monster
Tear me to shreds
I dare you
You've got what it takes
I never thought you'd do it
**** me now and get it over with
Play me like a game
Ditch me like a body
You'll be the one to blame
You're the one being naughty
Run and tell them all what you did
Confess, repent, repeat
It won't bring back to life that twisted, maliced, stone heart
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
The fragile, the broken,
we are. The bruised, the hurting, we are.
The lonely, the open, we are.
The rusted, the maliced, we are.
The stained, the pained, we are.
The hopeful, the honest, we are.
Crimson red, under blood shed, we are.
The forgiven, so it's written.
Let it be.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
Tongue-polished boots stand firm
on broken, shattered crystalled-glass.
As servile Schmiessers
move en masse.
With swallowed humanity,
a heavy arm
lifts anticipatory,
fear-borne—mask.
The Marshal of Bigotry cries his command,
“Persecutors! To the task!”
In maliced march,
and in chilling rhythm,
They goose-step,
arched,
o’er blood split
from civil schism.
Blinds are closed
and windows are shut.
As eyes turn away,
from that rabid, ferine strut.
A camp for him,
A camp for her.
And to them sent,
without law conferred.
With gun to temple,
We are offered a choice,
“Fall fast in line,
and in hate rejoice.”
“Or bear stitched lips,
and suffer silenced voice.”
If truth is stone,
then sharpen sword.
Don helm to crown,
And place faith
in just accord.
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 5:15 PM UTC