Purgatory

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Mysterious, there is a madness

trickling down

your spine.

I hear you with the words

you have breathed on windows,

drawn with fingertips.

A cage, within your heart

lock yourself

up again.

I know the venomous dreams,

the chrysalides that morph to wings

and take to flight upon the walls of your mind.

A fragment, lies upon lies

you dwell somewhere between

heaven and hell.

Goblin Garden (My first collection of random poems) PUBLISHED!Where stories live. Discover now