Blog poetry WRITING



It looked like scribbles if you walked by
Taking only a glance —

Those who stopped sought understanding
Knowing it was closer to disclosure —

She’d meditated on life, sought to bridge
Her final Work with a gateway to madness

Something she’d proven could be opened with
Swords instead of Keys

We were Human Form
Shipwrecked in temples and

Lyrically spinning bottles with
The worst of intentions —

I’d plagiarized her importance and
Become an invention of boredom

A foretaste to torture that
Horrifies every muse

The hour of disappearance

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