Cold.
It controls me, seeps into my body.
I await you
Death.
It comes for me, possesses my mind.
I love you
Friend.
It singes me, enlivening my pain.
I see you
Good.
It mocks me, crushing my heart.
I feel you
Evil.
It surrounds me, breathing down my neck.
I hear you
Knife.
It enters me, bringing out my blood.
I come to you
Heaven.
It welcomes me, caressing my soul.
I call you
Strength.
It saves me, releasing my gut.
I take you
Blade.
It becomes me, cutting my hand.
I push you
Murderer.
It fells you, laying open your heart.
I slash you
Bosom.
It mutilates you, tears fill your eyes.
I fuel you
Rage.
It destroys you, ripping your carcass.
I kill you
Man.
It grips me, intensifying my guilt.
I win you
Life.
It stops me, celebrating your death.
I bring you
Hell.
It liberates you, shackling my anguish.
I am you
Rain.
It alleviates me, cleansing my crime.
I live, you die.
But I forget,
Were you, you? And I, I?
There are moments when I feel very proud of you.
ReplyDeleteThis is one of them.
keep it up!