Reaper of Dismay

I know what it’s like

To be kissed by death,

To die slowly everyday

Under the guise

Of its sugar contrived lies.

To be wrapped

In its putrefied arms

And be told

That the siphoning of me

Into a gangrenous nobody

Was adoration and generosity.

To be chained

To the personification

Of end times,

Because I believed

That no one else

Would love me.

And even though

I broke away

From the embodiment of decay,

There are still days

I struggle to barricade

That old bleeding from seeping

Into moments of weakness…

And those currents of chaos

Carve enough space

To sweep the debris

Of distant memories

Into the forefront

Of unrelated reveries.

And though it hurts

To remember,

I have surrendered

To the truth…

That those years caged

By the Reaper of dismay’s

Narcissistic insecurities

Had nothing to do

With me personally.