a bad day

the laundry load was the low thought in her mind
when a sharp gleaming knife sliced her tender throat
of all the things she hated, soiled clothes were not her kind
no more scrubbing garments in the moat

now her bright white gown is soaked in warm red blood
her sharp makeup is a mess
no more riding the muscled stud
her life of boring moments has ended with a thud

the moments in which we live
are measured by the love we give
love we must until we turn to dust

she rotted till her white bones reflected the morning sun
all her brains were ate by ants who got smarter by the ton
her liver was the feast of big black crows flying east.
Her anus was engorged by black worm beasts

her cheekbones were the focus of a lot of selfie takes
now they dripped of cob webs and held lots of dirty flakes
her lips were red as cherry wine on a warm summer night
but now they are long gone and her smile is quite the fright.

the moments in which we live
are measured by the love we give
live we must until we turn to dust

she played her paltry hand as well as any gambler could
but when she got too greedy they turned her into wood
even though she was a beauty with black hair and bright blue eyes
she only looks at darkness in the never ending skies