Pony Poems

How curious a hole where your eye used to rest,

Now popped, splattered and smeared across my breast.

Without hesitation;

This pickax transforms.

Once an instrument of oppression

Is now the creator of new form:

The creator of a corpse.

Release, such relief.

Washes over my mind.

Which is now less whole

Be-cause of lost time.

In violence

I find this remedy.

In sin

I find this solution.

In violence.

I sate the monster again

In murder

I'll never take those pills again.

This macabre service I preform.

Is my anger taking taking form.

Still no matter what I try to be.

The words always come back to me:

Worthless

Filthy

Useless

Whore

All the words and scars from daddy.

And all the things he said I can't be.

This mark that he gave me.

The monster that he made me.

In violence

I find this remedy.

In sin

I find this solution.

In violence.

I sate the monster again

In murder

I'll never take those pills again.