Confessions of the Dead
by MYRYN VILLAFLOR
A monastery of sadness
haunted by colorful sorrows
of wintry afternoons, and costly tears
from regrettable flood of emotions
yet mostly never shed.
a kingdom of hatred
where minds are slaves of magical
blades and numb wrists
“CUT-RIP-SLICE” to death
while souls scream out in pain.
a theater of depression
a place for all that is blue
where lingering scent of hell befriends
the paranoiac thoughts in their wildest
yet, loneliest… HOURS.
Dark memories of this so-called life
freshly shelved between crocked
smiles and disgust.
but a kiss of sweet death.