Poison, From Conspiracy Poem by Luciel Dawning

While some forgotten ashes scatter,
I become no more than a sick lump,
Coughing up smoke,
Breaking into a chain of misery;
Crying,
Crying for life to crumble down! !
Twisted like a murderous doll,
Your gift hung in the air like helium
Trying to break free
Of an obsessive, lawful grasp.
So I lay underneath the vindicated rules,
But I can't find a hole to its perfection
That others call a 'flaw'.
Though, maybe if you listened,
You'd find the bitter fool
Swallowing tears as if they were mercury.