In the Meadow
Through the atypicalities of due process
I wrench my ever-rusted ribcage off it's
Hinges-
Sunlit paradigms,
Dust crusted smiles;
A gaping canyon, I cast toward you
A lightless cavity,
A nothing-prison of brittled bones
Which, caked with dried blood from when
My Heart imploded,
Roll and click against eachother like marbles
In the wicked mouth of fiction
Copyright © Jenna-Nichole Conrad | Year Posted 2012
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