a soul lies strewn aside, a rotting mangled heap, a putrid heart decays inside, a will too dehydrated to weep, a festering me, aching to hide, a mind too splintered to sleep.
a severance from the here, the now, a life of constantly needing to bow, a torn wail of pain, wailed somehow, a frigid heart with nothing to endow, a stench reeks from each guilty bow, a stream of hot tears on blinded brow.
what happens when the mind itself claws, scratches, and mercilessly lashes, what can you do when the soul itself shatters, and is slayed by the blade that slashes,
it’s all a barren pantomime of unending dread, it’s all a freak-show until everything is dead.
2.
it’s all just the ha-ha-hee-hee of cacophonous gibberish,
It’s all just the ha-ha-hee-hee of festering rubbish …
Scribbled Verse 
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