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A Siren Lures
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A darker time A siren lures, she calls, she sings
She brings her victims she makes them scream
Sweet, inviting, a butterfly
The layers burn to reveal the inside
Blisters fester in fury’s wake and agonizing rage fights to burst free
But she bides her time and she waits for hell
The putrid light at the tunnel’s end
Thrash them, flay them, gouge their eyes
Peel their skin until the blood runs dry
Vengeance is sweet is there is gone
And emptiness returns to salt her wounds
The world is black is bleak is bare
Too tired to fill the void left there
Must have been
Must have been awful...
~peace~
..................
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "