
Another poem. About feeling convicted about sins. And Oh, yeah, it's NOT about feeling convicted about murder. [holds up hands free of bloodstains]
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Poetry/Spiritual - Words: 168 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Published: 04-01-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2342045
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This pain is good
Pump it though my veins, full
These heavy kilopascals that hang about my head
A dripping halo
Tainting my skin with conviction
Tendrils that crawl, dark, to point to my hands
Oh bloody murder
Mirror, mirror in this hall
Who's that creature in the glass
Tumbling, crumbling will she fall?
Hope this spell will come to pass
Breathing again
Don't leave me here, so numb
Inject your whisp'ring ghost throughout my empty framework
Possessing my lungs
Up the bass in my falt'ring pulse
With haunting resonance, consume me whole
I didn't mean to drink their marrow
To be the death of all that's light
Oh bloody murder
Mirror, mirror in this hall
Who's that creature in the glass
Tumbling, crumbling will she fall?
Hope this spell will come to pass
Mirror, mirror in this hall
Who's that creature in the glass
Tumbling, crumbling will she fall?
Hope this spell will come to pass
OH BLOODY MURDER
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