World ache tale

Posted byMistress Witch writesPosted inThe historical horror of being alive, Witching Poetry!Tags:, , , , , , , ,

This darkness is not mine
A rainy cloud
Is ready to burst
We’re sobbing too loud
It’s not personal
At all.

This sadness is not mine
My dead mother
Is dangling from the ceiling
Hanging in the kitchen
I think she might be leaking.

This pain is not mine
The world has gone lost
Flames are soaring
It’s spilling blood
And I still have skin.

Is this body still mine?
Cheeks carry a smile
Of a forgotten melody
With an overdose
Becoming a scream
While on the kitchen floor
Choking and spitting blood
I die.

Published by Mistress Witch writes

About the historical horror of living. Drafting my witching novel. Chasing dark, forgotten and haunted tales.

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