Severance.

Severance.
Gratification of being born
drowned on
the edge of reality,
stopped
each moment of weakness as
she slipped from the grasp of her spider's web,
tampered by tears of torment,
shell dead
more than it ever was,
insides gutted,
spewed across the wasteland of
every mans wet dream.
Vultures laid in wait
eager eyes
blood red with rage,
circled each emotion
penetrated the locked door of innocence,
spilled the sanity of sorrow's native daughter,
reached the monotone horror
of her deepest recess,
stripped each ounce of life,
severance of breath.
© 2007 Michaela James.