They Are Coming

Just a black void of emotional, Unforgiving and deplorable. Don't know this woman anymore. Whose stricken everybody sore? Every string tied to my brain, To my hands and to my sane Tears me here and whips me there, By all these monsters everywhere. I don't know the woman anymore, Whose brown locks fall to the floor. I can not see her in my dreams, Just hands that sew those dressing seams. I can not ever see her face, Just her feet that drag the chase. The face in glass that terrifies. The light outside that multiplies, And creaks through the floorboard, And holes that are needle borne, And gardens carry poison, That can easily erase her skin. Her child knew that they were coming, I always knew that they were coming.