Misfortune In Disguise Poem by Dakota Ellerton

My mother always told me,
my blood was as poison.
Tainted, impure,
as thick and black as hatred.
I could only take pleasure in the misfortune I'd someday learn.
My childhood was seemingly boring.
I've bled from belief that I'd once more,
indulge in that unforgotten sin.
I could never clean my thoughts to a sane theme,
I am far too weak.
Internally condemed,
and salvation no longer exhists.
Too cruel for forgiveness,
and armed for an implosion.
My conscience withers at your idea of love.