VULTURE.

Vulture.

8/11/10

You feed off my bones

My wounds salted with emotion

How sweet am I now,

That you’ve had your victory?

They love you, Vulture,

Like fading souls.

And how you appear as an Angel,

Winged, smiling,

Diving for the dying.

You spread your deceit like a Virus,

Finishing your task with half-clean hands.

Yet your conscience is weighted

With the guilt of my Rape.

Taken for granted,

Suffocated by your lyrics:

The show-tune of Martyrdom.

And how they still love you,

As you feed off my torment

And reap your reward.

Oh, how they adore you,

My Vulture of love.

© BLAYKE MORROW, 2010