Poetry

Carnage

The carnage of her soul
lays splattered on the floor,
and all the demons of yesterday
come waltzing through her door.
Her heart has it’s own rhythm-
Beating off a tormented sound-
Screaming out insecurities-
No soothing silence to be found.
The darkness is consuming,
it fills her up inside-
Embracing the swirling chaos,
from herself she cannot hide.
A week woman hidden within,
cowers on the floor
Covered in spit and carnal sin-
A forgotten dirty whore.
She lifts her heavy head,
I meet her weary eyes…
Slowly, I begin to realize…
This carnage of her soul,
Splattered for all to see,
Is just a mirrored reflection
Of the hell that lives in me.

©LMS

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