within wooden frames

Blinding light, deafening echoes,

Suffocating breath, a burning taste,

And a freezing breeze,

Into the unknown, swirling, infinite thoughts

Deluded, by love, and beauty,

Malicious smiles, tender words

Stabbed, hypocrite, arrogant,

Her fine robe, high soles

Luscious lips, her kiss of death,

                Warm, and cold, dying

Sucking, his life force, an ending breath

A heart stolen, and now, freezing,

Buried, in hate, and yet,

Undead, looped in the past,

Faint ink, on a lover’s canvas,

Psyched, trapped, within, the wooden frames


The broken soul

A master’s whistle commands,
On a hunt, to the hounds,

To chase and not fail,
The deer’s blood scented trail

Scraped by a swift arrow,
Flying through the nest of a true sparrow

Tearing apart,
The hatchling, from it’s young spirit

The broken soul of its mother,
And bloodstain, on her quill feather

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