Walls tremble with ill passion
rattling of disappointment.
Shrill cries become
louder and unbearable.
Slivers of hope exist, maybe
outsiders will discern them.
Fear and doubt cross my
painfully troubled soul.
Oh, Holy One, forgive my past silence.
Deep in the hallow there are
battered and broken-down doors.
Nostrils full of pungent foul
wet dog and old cigarettes.
Red smears erratically along
the backs of those walls.
Panting with perspiration
after every vigorous bite.
The beast is vile and relentless.
The young man has lost control
and the beast has won his heart.
The young woman, equally
broken and lost at his mercy.
Black-bluish purples are wild
across her ivory skin.
Innocence placed carefully in
her womb, an afterthought.
About the Creator
Cheyenne Mercado
Secrets hidden behind a lock and key, suddenly his faithful love set me free.
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