Sinister catacombs of your designated brain
Leading me into your golden conscience
I can see your golden harvest
Your true beauty behind your processed skin
I've seen golden eagles turn gray
Skyscrapers fall into abysmal corruption
You're not just another jumper off the nest
You'll feed me a new kind of muse
...
Leech onto your painting so I can color mine
Stealing your red to fill my blue
But soon I drain you as I always do
Guess I'm really just a demonic hand
...
How's your hand feel?
Is the mark from my chain still there?
Because I'll do you two for one in this poker
Because she's still got my neck on a leash
...
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Author:
The 2 A.M Writer (
Offline) - Published: December 6th, 2016 22:25
- Comment from author about the poem: Being obsessed with a person and basically to a point where you're hurting them with your presence.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
Offline)
Comments1
That could be demonic . I like the golden conscience.
Thank you
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