Comments about Lori Christine
A Scar Is Born
A shadowed spirit parts the veil,
It slips inside where mortals dwell.
It burrows deep behind the eyes,
Scatters seeds and reaps the lies.
The lies feed on the secret fears,
Whose thirst is quenched by smoke and mirrors.
Malignant vine's ensnaring grasp
Breath becomes a strangled gasp.
Though shadow fades, the lies remain.
A mortal branded by its pain.
Flesh unscathed, the mind is torn
Beneath the skin, a scar is born.