STARK
Lurking in the corner of a seemingly clear conscious, you ravage me in your ungracious attempt to kill me off.
Black Crow Preacher entwined in hate and soulless garble, spraying words of death sentences, you throw your noose over the heads of children and innocent alike.
You damn us with your spin on life; bittersweet revenge in the guise of something noble- we see though, but only when we're looking.
Making once gullible hope your guilty pleasure- taking all and leaving nothing with your ego- driven nonsense. I won't listen.
Foibles craving of a clumsy, senseless woman you say- down woman, down!
Speak you not- speak of nothing, for it is all you are good for. Waste of space. Waste of breath.
I won’t be solemn or humble in my call to arms, I won’t be peaceful or quiet in my screaming. I won’t be shushed, nor fearful.
Open and bare I’ll stand, revealing every crook and cranny of my imperfect heart, with nothing but an honest, prevailing pulse. My skeletons fall into the open and clatter before you and still I am not afraid of my sinking ship.
There will be no bleeding dry here. The course is set and I’ll sit in waiting, for your downfall, upon this unforgiving ground.
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