Cemetery Girl

Busy of late,
Running towards,
In the dark, who fate,
Chooses to intimidate…
Eliminate,
The cold cemetery girl bewitched by the dead of night,
Twist and turn under the moonlight’s burn,
Again and again.

With each step,
I do not forget
My reasons to greet death,
With open arms,
Her unholy frozen charm,
Keeps me running.

The purest thing I know,
Her essence gives darkness to my negative space,
Beating frantically what is not,
Finally cloaking what I should not see,
In…and outside of me,
My sweet pea, my darling.

She’s always quiet when she speaks,
I always convince myself that she’s dying when she sleeps,
She implores I do not do that…,
It will bring unwanted stress to my already feeble bones,
My love frightens me when she’s still like, cold like stone,
I believe her home she’s outgrown,
I ask her to come with me,
Follow me back,
She hesitantly silently agrees,
She jumps on my back,
Latches on my shoulders while keeping herself intact,
We arrive at my home,
And plague the people I live with, selfish and unknown,
Breaking the skeleton of my mother’s own throne,
Bashing and beating,
Maiming and mistreating,
She speaks up now,
Loud and screaming,
Providing me with meaning-
To my actions seemingly violent by the minds I’ve set free,
Let them be dead, like her…and me,
Cemetery girl, utterly free,
She smiles…and winks,
I think,
I thinks,
She blinks.

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