Reads: 54  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 12, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 12, 2018






 She was but a mere figment of the vortex 

 An ideal illusion, fabricated to condemn the supposition of reality 


 Her dark eyes prowl in the entity's mind, preying on every last drop of lucidity 


 You seem well-built, as if a mighty stronghold 

 That is, until you look upon the maiden of insanity


 She takes away every brick you used to make yourself indestructible 


Tormenting every fiber of your conscience, until you crumble at her feet like an unmitigated plebeian 


 Not once did you ask upon the maiden to bestow such a curse so vile, but endure it you will


 When the bricks are obliterated 

 When you stare at the granules that crunch beneath your toes 

 When you have hit your lowest of lows..

When the maiden took all of your ability to function and left bearing you with nothing but salient psychopathy, 

Where is it for you to dwell?


For once you bear the darkness of the maiden's eyes; you are doomed to a life of delirium 

But the maiden plays with the strings of your heart and attaches like a stitch to broken flesh 


You fall deeply into her spell

Her pretense is to help you


If only you strayed away and trusted your intuition

If only you could break from her agonizing cycle of torment


May her hand graze only the cheeks of the strongest of warriors, and let rest the weary souls 


For the maiden be not so fair

For all she had cast is but a dreary —melancholic air 



-Rachel Kern 2018

© Copyright 2019 rachel cerulli. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: