Cracking skin, tattering nerves, broken bones
To what do I owe this shattering form?
Is it just a passing dream, one you wake from in ‘marrow’s gleam?
Or a curse bequeathed by a wicked beast, to trap and cage a beating beat?
Is it a hymn, a cry, or a scream? Which wakes the gashes from their seams?
Cracking skin, tattered nerves, broken bones
To what do I owe this splintering form?
Cracking skin: a gap for many to bare their seeds. A gift from those not willing to receive.
A spot for their darkness to shrine like the moaning sea. To open and slash a new face never seen.
Creating crevices for many more. So noticeable it can no longer go ignored.
No lotion, no drug, no moisture can purify the crippling cracks. It’s left to corrupt:
Left to show such unsightly truth
Tattering nerves, broken bones
To what do I owe this fragile form?
Tattered nerves: weakened with each breath as if to break a seal. Each word rips into the unseen.
A place where only the deepest shield lies beneath. A mere lock without any keys.
The wall encased a green-eyed beast. One which breaks the red string like a simple sheet.
No medicine, no plant, no training can repair the beckoning nerves, Its left to decay:
To show such demonic urge
To what do I owe this splitting form?
Broken bones: snapping support with each destructive word. A fragmented voice for a silent remorse.
A place where no bright light will reach. A hazy glare with a lack of care. The pain is constant, unwavering, unending.
It snaps like a twig, till one is left with a ghastly shell. A shadow, a ghoul, of pain withheld.
No cast, no stitches, no time can repair the crackling bones. Its left to fester:
To show such inner turmoil.
Cracking skin, tattering nerves, broken bones
To what do I owe this shattering form?
Is it just a passing dream, one you wake from in ‘marrow’s gleam?
Or a curse bequeathed by a wicked beast, to trap and cage a beating beat?
Is it a hymn, a cry, or a scream? Which wakes the gashes from their seams?
Self-loathing, Jealousy, and the third face unseen
