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Death of a monster
I feel like a monster.
My health has gone under.
The constant need to vomit.
Hydration is key.
This deception,
Of death.
For I seek death.
Away from this monster.
Away from this deception.
For I wish to be six feet under.
This grave will hold the key.
Under the stench of vomit.
Dry heave, purge, vomit.
Sickness that hints inevitable death.
My last words, redemption is key.
Is there salvation for me, a monster?
For in the dirt I lie under,
With life a deception.
For it is deception,
That makes me vomit,
And this plague I hold under,
Whispers sweet death.
Hides a hidden monster.
Who in her heart holds the key,
And it is that key,
That hides the deception,
To reveal this monster,
That makes me vomit.
Join me my dear, in death.
In my realm deep under.
I will bury you under.
Don't scream that is key.
Soon you will meet death.
I am sick of your deception.
Your presence makes me vomit.
You are the monster.
Here lies the monster buried under.
Choked on vomit, and holding the key.
Clothed in deception, and reeking of death.
Well, I guess that's one way
Well, I guess that's one way of looking at things. ~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. "