Scribbles

Deep down

Deep, deep down, 

I’m still a child, painting  bedroom walls

Setting fires after my mother’s death

A crazy peril in its most threatening state

No idea what’s wrong with me

Craving blood as a necessity

Here they come one by one

To take me away from this gruesome place

As the knife fell from my hand

It’s the women whom I stabbed

Bleeding mercilessly on the floor

They tied a black blindfold on my eyes

It’s the last sight before they take me away.

 

 

 

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