The blood of the lamb,
spread on my floor,
these feelings i've felt,
aren't my feelings anymore -
No longer can I move my eyes,
in these bruised sockets aching,
I watch them close,
i'm full of spite,
my spine is bent and it's breaking-
The demons I once casted out,
control my thoughts,
and oh how they shout;
We sat beside your bed at night,
snuffing out the smallest light,
wrapped around your throat so tight,
so you can never win this fight-
She questions why,
I've become like this,
My thoughts echo vague;
And I dream of deaths kiss-
Where is your mind
where have you been;
Would you take it back,
if you could start again?
Get up off your high horse,
she she shouts in my face-
But the person that she sees,
is no longer in this place.
YOU ARE READING
My Sweet Grave Digger
PoetryI use to have an anger so big, it could fill up any house. Poems from the garage attic.
