Weary Is My Mind

Weary Is My Mind I promise, I swear, I will never, I will always That blaring sentiment of a pattering ghost that I detest Among the empty hollowing of her mouth and eyelids There lies darkness deep and unending that I fell into once, never again. Baffled and naked, afraid and convinced I was nearing my hearse She runs screaming, yelping in madness as her body falls dead Once I thought I knew, but as fate would incline The truth would be only a weapon and shield–vulnerable. . . never again. The prating sound squawks as death marks before her squalid breathy voice Her pupils' contract like a viper’s hint at prey, pouncing, and then devouring The blood is left spattering and spurting among my grey, hollow walls Only her wedded can clean out the muck as I have given up, never again. Coiling around me with her slippery scales, the precipice of my demise The sword and the shield once though best, were only cardboard copies My soul is shattered, and my will is blank, giving into her sweet, nectary venom The forefront of my being is gone. . . crushed under a blanket of rue For Weary Is My Mind