They Are Just Children
Staring over the edge at consuming depth.
Feeling the hot diseased dread burning through your core.
Consistency nawing at the edges, on the coat tails of madness.
What have you done? What have you become?
So deep, you hold it close until the chasm becomes your pleasure.
Blurred bounderies create what is perceived.
There is no mercy in acceptance.
A guides plot leading you every step of the way.
Monumental love creeps in the shadows,
as a magnetic storm overshadows all.
Innocence times three you take for granted,
and guilts vessel overflows spilling into the subconsious where hell is a game.
Now, three more of you created, masterfully.
Their void filled with your ever decaying past.
Wishing explanations and apologies were capable of your impossibility.
Wishes are for the weak, you know better.
If three were any less your exsistance would cease.
How dare you create to destroy.
Generosity has no place in your world of demons.
Copyright © Cheri Burtovoy | Year Posted 2014
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