Poetry
Rage
The sweetness belies a hard, bitter, toxic core.
My heart is a ripe peach. Soft flesh, life’s blood Flayed open to the bitter almond core - A poisoned kernel you carelessly mistook For a nut. Bite deep, and taste the juices.
In silence, as war, we call no truces. Memory turns crumbling pages of the book You call a mind, illustrated no more. Just letters, words, and colors in a flood.
Touch me, and I will set my hair on fire While you scream, to prove I still burn for you.






