I quivered angrily
in my dark hell hole
As I treated the wounds
hidden deep inside my chest
Murder.
A word shouted to me
by my dark past.
I was the living dead
before he grabbed me,
snatched me from the darkness,
but left me lifeless.
He was there
when I couldn’t take
my husband’s fist anymore.
He bandaged my cuts,
embraced my bruises,
made me happy,
drifted off our lane
and was lost in another’s arms.
The heavens kept crying
as I broke down his door.
My eyes gulped down
the doomed girl
and my paramour
as I thrust the knife
into his pleading body.
Then my ravening heart
urged my hands
to strike her death.
Images ran
through my mind
as it screamed damnation.
I let my weapon
kiss her heart
as her shouts were silenced.
Red and blue lights
surrounded me
as I blacked out.
And now, here I am.
Stuck in this room
with this white jacket
as my only companion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem