Tuesday, 3 July 2007

The Writer

I wrote a destiny today.

It was beautiful.

It danced.

Swayed.

Turned.

Twisted.

Contorted.

Deformed.


I wrote my sister’s destiny today.

And I wrote it in blood.

My blood.

Blue on a Red page.

Green on turbulent Yellow.

A corruption.

Perversion.


I have trapped her.

She is in a pulsing,

Quivering prison.

The walls are slick, and

Painted Red.

The only way out

Is through a gaping hole.

0 member protest rally:

Post a Comment

Talk, my friend. Now that you've read this section, the urge to speak has increased. I know. It's all right. It happens...
Stop fighting it. Talk.