VII "Clover of Taboo"

The door is pounding at the end of the hall

Echoing cries in my eardrums

Waiting for the widow's final call 

My deafness is his demon 

 

His distanced calls are like a winding road

Loss of sensation at appease

His soul creeping out of the corner of my eye

I am blinking uncontrollably

 

Kaleidoscope swiftness dilate in my eyes

Lit from beneath the cellar of his soul

Birds flying an endless flight

Yet he broke another hole in my wall

 

Now I don't believe in anything at all

His presence has left me for dead

The blanket unfolds,the room goes cold

My pillow shares my deathbed  

 

As I am froze, breathless, stone-cold

The broken windows turn to rock

My inner defenses are a story foretold

Turning my ol' soul to rot

 

A breeze has shuffled over my feet

Losing my last chance to speak 

Taken advantage of, black bird retreats  

Along with every inch of hope in me 

 

Carving out the name on tinted taboo

And the devil's hand prints

Are a clover of his scented tattoos

Of the left-handed misprint

 

Carrying out the culprit

Down to the inkwell

One handed mischief

The widow fell down to hell

 

Break this bridge down then he'll fly

And at the alter, all has broken free

Die in my asylum, we lived a lie

But you sold my sins out to sea