Member-only story
Wretched Soul
Died of a friendly fire
The house’s stale walls paraded the charms,
May they hide the monster it cages.
False hope says you’d observe kindness,
Wringing from my diary’s hate-filled pages.
How deluded is my miserable being!
I fell into the dark pit of hope again.
And I see us walking on a carpet so red,
With my feet cut-open by the thorns you laid.
And the blaze of laughter for you I endured,
But you wore your black shades to save your grace.
And the burrow I dwelt in, and felt my soul waning,
But for your majestic stride, it was burdening.
Yet I see myself waiting by the riverside
Thinking maybe it’s me who left you far behind,
For days, for you to come and for us to cross the bridge.
But jokes on me! You are already on the other side.
My unhealthy attachments and dependent self,
Played Jenga against me and my ego tower dropped.
And now you’re the reason I’m a wretched, wretched soul,
For to blame, it’s always only the last pulled block.
Truth affirms you’d never find kindness,
Wringing from my diary’s pain-filled chapters.
The house is long burnt down to ashes;
At length freeing me, your wretched monster.
