Angled Morals

Golden rays shone through her aged windows
Drawing patterns on the blood splattered walls
The intricate spirals burned holes through her eyes
The sun tinted screams she saw,
Enticed her soul from its pitiful depths

His promises drew temptation from her lips
Wrapped in a blanket of despair,
Fixed under her blistering greed
She denied the resurrection of her heart


The jars lined on her shelves
Contained precious butterflies
Their delicate wings fluttered silently
Everyday she would set one on fire
She no longer felt the need to name them

All her visitors hung serenely from her ceiling
She never knew what to do with them

Everynight when the sun set
She wrote poems she could not comprehend
And glued them happily to her walls