I dismember the past like a butcher
My hands sticky with blood
The hatchet in my hand
Performs a hopeless autopsy
The present cowers in terror,
The stink of loss and guilt in its wake
I visit the thorny bush, remembrance
Like a crow, seeking its nest
No solace in its shadows
No rest, no rest
Did you enjoy the the artible “Horror Story” from Sheena Blackhall on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply