Memories

this is fiction

Lavender clouds of martyrs hope,

waft slowly, through open doors.

 

A flock of gulls, float past

me, as I write to you,

Dear Charity.

 

For pentagrams, appear on walls,

of blood stained motel rooms,

long forgotten their era pain.

 

Pearls of sweat,

bead down your foundation.

Over scars not yet forgiven.

 

And you, with knife like claws for hands,

may never be heard from now on,

again.

Reviews

[Alexa Aiden]

Yeah whatever, we already know I'm a fan... >_>
^_^