Painted Wings

You’re not worth saving.

Uncurl your withered spine,
Sweetly slice your conceit,
Barbarians charge,
Through my phantasmal defense.

Your gauzy skin slithers off your rotting discernment,
Eclipsed illumination,
You gurgle,
You’re drowning.

Your feeble wretched bodies stretch,
Unfurl towards the dank sky,
Beady eyes warn me,
Strange, quite strange how I would call myself your own.

I would think we were alike,
You grotesque creatures of malicious intent,
Wicked, greedy smiles;
So much content.

I see you dye in the reflection of my remembrance,
You see I died a long time ago,
Oh to your dismay,
I am neither alive nor dead in your day.

I’m indifferent to your love bites,
Followed by my bull’s eye to the wall,
Petty monsters, you do not recognize with me,
I smile in your wake.

I’ll gladly present you back your painted wings,
Fly away, you won’t come back,
You frightful things, Oh so scary,
I stand neither beside nor against you.©