#458 (burst

The oven had

already cooled

down, yet all

your pretty lies were

prominently sticking

to the shiny surface

of the griddle

like raw dough.

Flames of passion

didn’t do the trick

you always needed

more and so you

burnt until

my heart  was

blackened with soot

and a once healthy

soul was decsending

into the abyss of

your twisted desires.

I cut all wires and

blasted the oven

into a million pieces,

using my pain as

a weapon, to not

be smothered by

its weight. You stared

like a deer into

headlights, but it

was not your choice,

like you had never given

me a choice at all.


© Matthias Grupe, 25th July 2018





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