Rotten Without Regret

Here’s a painting of my soul
A lose binding of pages that
Leak hope
Till it overflows at the borderline
Of my existence

Happiness becomes the death of me

I’m reminded of the time
Evil queen offered me an Apple
And I ate it and I lived
She looked at me with surprise
As I walked away alive
But I was always dead inside

You can’t kill the dead, my queen

My poetry is rotten
While my fingers dipped in
Paint black leaves upon
Whitewashed fences
I spread my brown wings
And make home out of
Haunted buildings in your city

I’m surprised you thought you were same enough to call me crazy

You’re no less of an empty
Void than I’ve been
Tell me, how do you fill that

You drink upon sins
And breathe out heaven;
I spit metaphors on your face
And you worship me

You & me, we’re one; rotten without regret.


2 thoughts on “Rotten Without Regret

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