dos
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
your arcane orbs scrutinize
every fraction of my wounds
that bleed gold ─
ain't you the fallen seraph?
the ornaments that i hide
in the bizarre alleys of my heart
all lay naked
to your dainty fingers.
my diaphanous soul
is bankrupt,
shall i call you healer ─
or the brutal tormentor?
to the manifestation of
my inadequate existence?
── bruised cherub.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
a/n : i have mixed feelings about this.