Poison

What is your poison ? Is is drugs , sex or booze? Maybe something sinister. Something, you hide,even from your muse. Does the smell of blood, Make you sigh in release? Do their frantic cries, Fuel your unending need? Does the slice of a blade, excite your soul? Leave you weak in the knees and make you soar. Or is it the sharp edges of bones,laid broken,on the floor,that make you complete. Yes,they make you whole. A mother , a daughter , a sister, a whore . A father , a saviour, does it really matter anymore . The faces , so seamlessly , merge into one . And when death comes , it frees you , till the next one . The proof they leave , your battle scars. You wear them proud , Compared to you what you’ve done Their’s is nothing at all. Day,weeks,months. They all go by , You don’t need the moon. The numbers tell you how far you have come. Do you feel ashamed when you look in the mirror, Or proud and in control . Does the madness in your eyes , reveal the insanity you withhold. Does the voice in your head, Tell you what to do? Guide you, Like a mother with the infant of her womb. That voice in your head. How sweetly it dwells. Initially, pleasing. The soothing sounds, it makes, when they are bleeding , your dead. But then the sounds turn angry and vengeful No matter what you do , there is no pleasing. You thought you were in control ,but they played you. Haha, all this time you were being ruled. The doctors they tell you , You’re Evil , you’re doomed. To rot in hell , Haunted and marooned. So hide behind your mask, A regular ol’ John. While in hiding you keep, The monster ,your true form. Why would you want to be normal, If normal isn’t you . Does lying and hiding make it easier . Or does it make, a reflection, that keeps humiliating you. So set it free, The killer in you. What is your poison? Mine is your ruin. By Amanda Miller