6 August 2012
Look
Down
At
My
Hands,
Red and raw skin,
Peeling off in strands,
A laughing magpie out of sight,
Cackling, in a moon so bright,
The blood seeks to mend,
Cuts left by a special friend,
Living in that space behind,
Left ghostly inside your mind,
Inside the fire, how it burns,
For this you dearly yearn,
The glow lights up your eyes,
Yet inside your soul, it cries,
Crumpled love, a paper ball,
Withering black, turning small,
A spirit to weep a red ruby drop,
While boiling eyeballs just pop,
This is no simple haunted home,
It is your heart this spirit roams.
Haunted • Opuss № I