Shall I speak
This alien story
Of my artless soul
Dwelling this
Demonic sphere
Where a thousand vampires
Guzzle my virginity
Why must you snatch
A soul that belongs to me
You fed me
Grim bread
The prize for
My juvenile spirit
But I didn’t request it
Too young
To eat from your
Garden of reckless urge
Genocide
I groan a hideous voice
Words, shy
To speak of
Sweet dreams turned
Into festival of nightmares
Extract from the forthcoming collection, Canvass.
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