On’stavencor


Your heart was an empire,
Your words spread like fire,
Loss and belonging – you drowned,
The life we had – deep underground;
Those cold stone halls,
And the concrete walls,
Down they fell
Into the pits of hell.

O, you poor unfortunate soul.

Upon your wilting throne,
Your sad tales had grown,
More and more, and more,
Until my fragile mind
Could take no more;

O, how you mocked me.

Only your brood mattered.
I, broken and shattered,
Hung in your sullen dungeon,
While your brood bludgeoned;
My cursed and unsettling mind;
Your sodden secrets began to unwind.

Your essence was hard to trust;
It held out on a limb just for lust.

O, how greedy and foolish.

You feared the worst,
Still, your hips were cursed,
I was aware from the start
Underneath that crown,
You were still a rotten tart.

I felt violated,
My dignity ripped from me,
And everything that I knew and cherished,
Strewn across the floor,
My innards in a pool on the ground,
I, butchered from my gory demise;
I tumbled, I stumbled,
Every ache and every pain;
My bones cracked,
My heart stopped,
Breathing ceased,
And life flashed before my eyes.

There I lay, bewildered and agonised.
Time had stopped…

Completely.

I found myself in the realm of thought,
A time lapse of your merciless reign
Began to play;

Plot holes appeared,
Every doubt,
Every fear,
It all made sense.

The name, his name,
It was seen before,
Spat from the mouth of a whore,
Your pursed lips came:
His name, his name:

Foretold in latent tales,
And blown in from bloody sails;
Bolstered from the golden waste
In the repulsive rat race,
A cretin of your fathomless brood,
Now face deep in your mould.

But I shan’t stop here,
Not when freedom is near.

From the very depths of my broken weary heart,
There lies a light,
Beaming brighter,
Much brighter than the very stars,
Figures, figments,
No, angels from the shadows;
Their altruistic grace
Always present,
Always immaculate;
They are heroes and heroines,
My worthy peers,
My life, my friends,
My family.

And with them, I will rise.

You deemed me to suffer
After I dismissed you from my heart,
Back then, already occupied by a false paramour.

But it will not be me that is the one to suffer,
No, for I already see you quivering,
Wilting, shuddering and rotting under that Arian mask,
You are broken, far more broken,
Losses and betrayals,
They’ve turned you into a hethan,
A hussy, a liar, a polished up trollop,
You are scared and frightened,
You are nothing but a virtual entity
That cannot defy the cruel and harsh reality
Of this much greater empire that you stand in;

Fall, I shall not,
Suffer again,
You shall.

Advertisements

Your Thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s