Serena Malcolm

What’s this that falls
before my eyes,
With blistered sores
and weary sighs?

A shell, a corpse
that’s mummified
in the bloodied gauze
of her demise,
She is my spirit,
Mauled, maligned,
Her salted tears
have scored and dried.

Malevolence poured
from callous minds,
Like tiny swords
that beat and bind
’til they’ve pilfered thoughts
and plundered rhymes.

My one true call
has cleared the line.

….

Please hang up
Please hang up
Please hang up
Don’t try again.

No NaPoWriMo prompt today…. I was feeling far too sorry for myself. Maybe tomorrow………..