Beatchyvon

Her smell, it permeates my skin. Her thoughts, driven deep within. Her will, it amplifies my sin. Her Soul, hollow, tattered and thin. What right, given her, to plow my soul. The seeds of sin, buried there to grow. In gleeful madness does she reap, Tears of joy I reluctantly weep. Torn asunder, my will and mind. She took from me all that was mine, And left me here bound by my fears. Still crying, yet, I shed no tears. I lie in bed, not near asleep. As waves of apathy wash over me. My world a void, so very deep I'm drowning in uncertainty.