India Mysticali Poems

Oh lord, oh dear
what have I done?
I've shot a man
with my own gun.
...

The gray clouds,
thick fog and mist
prepare the subconscious
for death's sweet kiss.
...

Your friends think you're perfect
but they haven't a clue
that only I know
what bullies do to you.
...

Burning paper
rains down
upon all the dead flowers
...

He watches her
cautiously
His niece, this child
with lavendar eyes
...

Red slits on my body
crimson drops roll down my arm
I lick the blood from the blade
its shiny red glint doth charm
...

'I cut myself
because I can
I cut myself
because I am....'
...

I run that blade
it pierceth the skin.
I no longer
feel its bite.
...