her fingernails bear the mark
earth packed down to her skin
from where she has clawed
scraped, dug
this hole...
she lives within
it’s misery
beneath the ground
it’s a sanctuary
where she conceals...
what others should never know about.
she breathes in dank
dirt, death.
she won’t crawl out,
quite yet,
for the pain still resonates.
it thumps, runs through her like a fire
burning ever brighter.
it thrives.
and here in her Land of Dark
she dies,
dies, dies
rips at the ground to cover herself
and prays....
to be
buried alive...
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2 comments:
this one is deadlier than the missing ingredient in some witch's brew
i love it from the sanctuary to the wish...
p.s.
could you please change my name from crimsomflow to crimsonflaw.. on the list of your links that is ..
My God!
Sara...
Between you and Shakir's excellent compositions,
I'm surprised my poems are still alive.
hee-hee!
Well done for this one as always
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