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...Sins of the muse
By SolApathy
I am the tainted muse of one abused
Twisted into the fire of madness, so sad
I saw once a glimmer of the beauty I was to be
In a reflection when I was 10-- you see
I reminisce dreams and desires
Not yet tainted by her hands of ire
As the years dragged me though the tears
My hands bloodied by the sins of my imagination
Pummeled by the words of her damnation
The memories I carried, once hopeful
Now just a festering sore
Broke the mirror today
I see my soul
…No more
Twisted into the fire of madness, so sad
I saw once a glimmer of the beauty I was to be
In a reflection when I was 10-- you see
I reminisce dreams and desires
Not yet tainted by her hands of ire
As the years dragged me though the tears
My hands bloodied by the sins of my imagination
Pummeled by the words of her damnation
The memories I carried, once hopeful
Now just a festering sore
Broke the mirror today
I see my soul
…No more
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© 2020 SolApathy
Published on Sunday, June 11, 2017.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
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