Betrayed

6 Oct

(to be read with a beat)

You may not attain me,
contain me, save me

Don’t bless me, lecture me
waste it on me.

Your words—a sieve
peeling my flesh,

You: like wind
diminished
by death.

Cruel, pompous
rigid like steel
You—I despise
Your schtick
Your spiel

Once inspired,
now live wired

belittled, battered
shapeless and tired

Form—post-mortem.
rotten—gross
you talk
such boredom!

You, my morgue of God’s great splendor
carry no more
my divided nature.
A murderer of vision,
how did I not see?
the one who killed me, not you—but me.

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