Haiku
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TW
There is a skeleton
in the closet of my home
that was my body.
The sun I once was…
replaced by a false woman,
Satan himself said.
The thing about hell,
even if entered willingly,
binds you forever.
Pomegranate seeds
bleed down my lips that you think
speak in narratives.
An opposition
of resurrection is what?
Queen of the undead.
The blood trickling
reminds me I am in fact
still alive. But how?
Now empty veins
harden to protect my truths,
though feeling deranged.
Possessed and unhinged,
I detach myself from sun,
surrounded by red.
