Scythe

From an emotional covering, Perceptive tears Are torrents of anger, whisperings of sadness Submissive always, yielding to the savage ground. Burden with stones, Plunge to the deep, drown. Pregnant with such suffering, I carry it as if it was my own child. I am the raped, the beaten, the judged, the victimized. All's pain I feel - my own, is theirs. An oppressed woman, with scarred wrists, bloodied nails Sleep deprived heavy eyes. The future is dismal further, No light at the tunnel's buried end. Vacuity of wretched eternity Stroke with knife, Pressure, thickly blood trickles. Optimists smile, veiled eyes blind by design In pursuit of answers nonexistent. I was born un-shrouded, Crying, and never ceased crying. Take the rope, Secure; it fits. I cannot bear, To gaze upon you, myself And our shared defects. Strike the match, Grip, permit to burn. There are those, Possessing lucid comprehension, Faith knocked by rationale, Adrift in reflection, bitterly alone. Solely, who know, Our communal consciousness, uttered again. Fetch the pills, For once of some help. At the final point, I am dry of tears, Possessing profound free will, I can halt my own breath, selfishly Or view myself become the carrion Of vultures, endeavoring to devour my secrets, Me you have cursed with scorching life. What the ruinous world gave me, I do not offer. Empower myself, I am mine to take. Quenched of hope Barren of future Delicious is death.