Wednesday, 5 February 364 Plays
There are no fingerprints
Deep under water
Nothing to tie one to a crime
And if you seek vengeance
All you need are instruments of pain
There is a sickness I feel in my heart for you, so sick you feel the need to revert back to the one person who put you through torturous pain, so blindly and effortlessly manipulated by the words of a man who cares nothing in his black hole of a soul for you, you are not the child who was handed the kindness of a father, rather broken remnants of a mother a life sustained purely devoted to your existence and as the day begins new so does the drawstrings of your limbs and thoughts, forgetful of the open head and heart wounds that were maliciously placed on your body and in your mind that to turn so coldly from your mother life giver and protector in an instant isn’t to say you yourself are not human but the actions of the damned are rubbing elbows with your inner thoughts creating the black cloud and continuing the cycle, a life of unhappiness is worthy if those who let her weep so openly.