Social Confessional

gallows_by_hornedquad-d5nby0v

I may have sinned, but I won’t ask your forgiveness.
The truth is I’ve only tried to emulate you,
Acting without scruples in your manner,
But I still stand in awe of you:
How you blaze a trail of ruin,
Leaving flowers to wither and vegetation to rot.
You don’t possess a conscience;
Perhaps that’s why I feel so good
When I slander your name across the universe.
Never before have I sought vengeance,
But I confess now that every wound I inflict—
Stealing what you hold most dear—
Brings a sickening satisfaction to my mind,
And when those thoughts lull me to sleep
They are the best sleeps I ever know.

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Wilted

dead_flower_by_ninsight-d301wab

You are no flower—
Not one worth putting in a vase, anyway.
You’ve wilted away in what should be your prime,
Tearing your petals off,
Depriving yourself of nourishment,
And living in perpetual shadow.
It’s no wonder you can’t be alone with your thoughts
Without bending your mind until it snaps;
But if you can’t live with yourself,
No one else will be able to live with you, either.