Eyes of a Saint

Anger devours all thoughts of sanity. Left in perspective is a warped sense of morality. No “I” , no “me.” Just a lost sense of individuality. Memories torn and tattered. Hopes and dreams , gone and splattered. Her Brain too oftenly impaled by the pain , that she should’ve never grown accustomed to. She’s sickly pale with a heart that’s black and blue. Crimson trickles. Now only one drop remains. Life disregarded , as natural as a male lion who bears no mane. Imagery in mind is so vivid. Agony the artist that uses her wrist as a canvas Where it created a red and wine collage without paint because she " could no longer stand it! " Heart stops. Begins to rot. Decadence creates its very own chaotic thought crate. Entity flashes. Meaning turns to ashes. Eyes turn white. Life becomes faint. With her vision blurred she makes out a face. She understands. She’s smiles. She is seeing the reflection of her escape...in the eyes of a saint.