#352 (Bloody Mary)

The door

creaking open and

along comes Mary,

the bloody bride,

reeking of incense

and innocence with

her eyes open wide.

Fatality took its toll,

or so I was told, she

had accidentally gutted

their father. On her

trail once white cloth

now all pink dread,

in her eyes nothing

left and her face so

bereft, yet her conscience

as clear as a doe.

While she schleps all

the guilt and collosal

disgrace, her sweet lips

curl into a smile. And

though doubtful she

speaks with a voice

full of knives that her

sins truly were worth

her while.


© Matthias Geh, 29th June 2018


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