Brialee Turner

In the basement of 

My mind and my life,

I’m huddled in the corner

Grasping for safety. 

A piece of butcher 

Paper hangs in muddled suspension

Before me.

It was perfect,

No marks and no scars

And now I’m grasping 

To frantically fix it

Before anyone finds out that

I’m a monster 

Whose fucked up my life. 

The anxiety 

Reaches it’s desolate 

And empty limbs

Around my heart and squeezes 

Me so so tightly 

That I can’t breathe and 

All of the hope leaves.

“You will burn in hell”,

The figure warns 

And then the paper 

(Dripping with claw marks

And succulent 

With blood) 

Vanishes with his 

Bones.