Frozen

Icicles cling the mind
of wintry lips that blew their blizzard,
which froze the sky and dreams
until all that was left
is a barren wasteland to wander,
a place in the head you are so frigid,
so trapped in a hibernation cave,
doesn’t matter what the sun brings
because the chill breathed over life
by some stingy icy words
leaves the frostbite marks on the skin,
until it becomes hideous
totally mutated from any idea of beauty.

Age can’t heal the ugliness imagined,
inside it just grows and spreads in the power
over what the eyes can see.

When those abominable creatures appeared
who stalked where we hide
they violate what shred of sanity lives,
mangle the very core of what you are
and leave a wounded heart
to bleed to death in their absence.

Yet, you don’t die in the process,
instead you cope like surviving a storm,
still it doesn’t undo the carnage experienced
or the times spend indulging
where life turns selfish and brutal.

Even though they are memories
driven by the holes in needs,
the sense of guilt molests the calm
ever left to only see something hateful
in the layers of your flesh.