Scorched-
When a body burns, you know that it's burning.
You can smell the horrid stench, and the crisp, burned, and blackened flesh.
You know that it's there somewhere, underneath your eyes,
burning and chilling your bones,
Filling you with loathing and fucked up lies,
Do you feel the ice cold concrete,
Seeping through your skin,
Do you feel the searing burn marks,
Hiding in your soul, shame paving it in,
Do you feel the anticipation from the ground underneath,
Awaiting your presence ready to torture you, the disease,
Or do you hear them calling from up above,
Promising to fill your soul,
With undivided love.
YOU ARE READING
Misguided
PoetryDark poetry, self harm involved. Yes, most of my poems rhyme if not all of them. I like it that way. Thanks for reading. And don't plagiarize. © All Rights Reserved
