Maybe these words wouldn't be able
to describe what I feel for these-
those feathers in wings of mine;
they're like the angel wings and yet
it tastes like the bloodied-corpse of a devil
like looking into an apple,
it's just the pure looking of inside it,
it's a pale shade of red that's crimson
like the horns of that killed the innocent villager.
I walk forward to the present and future,
but I hate to see my past-
it's not a terrible or horrible one,
yet it's tainted, gore and ugly-
obscene and disgusting;
I hate to be reminded of it...
It drives me mad and I cry, cry and cry...
for I'm not the same person anymore.
I've tried to shut down my past memories
and yet I recall them at times,
everything's so naive and simple.
I hated that feeling in my chest,
it wrenches and kicks it in,
my stomach gets punched and my chest
it's the worst there, in my head too.
Sick in my stomach,
my head, my mind, my soul-
my heart, chest, body-
pain. Everywhere in the past
I dug it out and ate it.