Bren Wrights

Hey Miss Murder🩸

 

An unfathomable occurrence
a lie on lips that feign endurance
a flutter of sultry eyes 
that leads to one’s demise

 

What does she see in her reflection?
a caricature of self-infliction
a mess of false identity
the horror that begets piety

 

She lies in wait
desperate to twist her fate
wondering if there’s a way
she can take to escape

 

She has wounded pride
a thorn to her side
eyes that won’t cry
and hate that won’t die

 

Pain is her last dying wish
she craves the bitter gift
of what she missed
to have come to this

 

If we stay until tomorrow
maybe we can share her sorrows
if she starts to stoop too low
then it means it’s time to go

 

She was the description of affliction
a depiction of intuition
seeing her own downfall
as she croaks and crawls

 

Controlled by the past
is something so sad
just because it hurts
doesn’t make it bad

 

Let the earth feel her wrath
for she leaves destruction in her path
and causes babies to whimper
and foolish men to simper

 

A banquet of games
with platters of grain
and flutes of poisoned wine
as pungent as her crimes

 

She wears vengeance like a tailored dress
a kaleidoscope of duress
a mess made to impress
her ever-haughty guests


She claws and tears at her own skin
to deform the picture of suffering
and perform a play of sin
her flesh stretching thin

A knife can beat a gun
depending on how fast you run
a wit of mind
leads to death unkind

 

No one knows her name
or why she plays these games
the thrill of the hunt
leads to many affronts

 

Let her enemies witness their folly
with scorching fire falling 
from torrent skies and let them
meet their final calling