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BIANCA & DERREL

SONGSOPTOK THE WRITERS BLOG | 1/15/2016 |





Razor sharp
I mingle
in a winter atmosphere.
want claws for hands,
razor sharp.
dissect you anatomically.
see where your pain is.

your pain
whom condemned me.
I was not bad,
I become it ...
it happened to me.

I moved into the
infernal chill.
want to dress up
to become your nightmare.
not disguise myself
under a white robe.
I'm no ghost.
No, you should know
who I am.

want to haunt
inside your dreams.
tear you apart
as a cushion
that I'll shake
until emptied.
all of your content
in your bed as
a red blanket.

powder snow creaks
under my feet.
do you hear me.
Oh no, you don't.
I'm walking outdoors,
waiting until
you sleep, so
my icepick-claws
can damage your heart.

will lead them
deep inside you
so you never
will be going forward,
except when
pushed forward
in a coffin.

your fragile head
splintered over
the patchwork quilt.
your soul torn apart,
the thousands of pieces
bring sparkles in my eyes.

you fell apart.
all shards
I put in my body.
your soul is mine
and I start to glow.

I merge with you,
not into unity.
I feed myself
.. like I did
seven times
before.
[© BIANCA]



Salvation

to the point
of mauling
I'm broke
I can't walk

in sadness
of recognition
my sight
is unknown
of wind direction

in the street
of winter
I'm really capable
to throw
with hailstones

but I will wait
for the miracle
of hope
that will
bring salvation

[© BIANCA]



I took photographs from you.
You wanted them as picture for on your wall.
When I walk down the streets,
I see a poster on a wall.
Don't look at it,
this means nothing to me at all.
Just a missing person,
another poster on a wall.

A poster on the wall,
look at it,
there you are, standing tall.

Walking towards my place.
3 weeks of isolation has done nothing good at all.
I look at the pictures for on my wall,
look at photographs of you,
this means nothing to me at all.

I look at you.
You don't look this good.
You don't look like him at all.

Bang!!!
I look at you,
you don't look this good.
You don't look like him at all.
He didn't had a hole in the head.

This means nothing to me.
You are just a missing person.
You are just a victim.
You mean nothing to me at all.

Just a missing person,
another poster on a wall.
Just another dead person,
a victim, will make a photograph of you.
A picture of you for on my wall.


[© DERREL]

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