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Unarmed
In stagnent waters
your palm is full
and seeping within
gland of sweat and malnourised cells,
you are the living septicale of waste
and me
a morsull
of remorsefullness,
grains of treason
No longer is love purity,
and life?
nothing but the cut strings of your discarded puppet,
proud is the pain that you inflict
deaf is the cries that empty to retreat
stone cold illusions
left to spoil in the flames of life and dillusionment,
you love?
no, you are a pen of filth and ink writing lies into every syllable that is stolen from my lips,
a chain letter of sacrafice and greed
laced and confused
I beg sickened and deflated
looking for another,
one more polished and accurate
aim is all that is left of you to shoot at me
for I am unarmed
__________________
~Esen
What is everyone doing in my room?
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