I once knew a lady, she was always ill, but she believed faith would save her. It didn't. |
-Frailty- by Keaton Foster Frailty The lady Oddly named Sickly She seems Weakness She breeds Her child Only the one Is near death Gaunt His frame Hollow Such a brain His skin Paler Than most things Rotten within death His eyes, bulbous Vacant portals Into a mind Of nothingness There is bleakness Then there is him He, a machine Incapable of feeling Or understanding Just mush Saturated by Thinly veiled threats To its existence Death Will be soon Time Matters not She alone Will remain Dare I say Unchanged She’ll confess That all of it Was in some way A shared fate A fool’s fool Like she Believes That fate Has such Control Nope In anyway Anyhow This is not fate Nor is it faith It’s something else Much darker Increasingly sinister Frailty Repugnant indeed Is such vanity As if God above Or the darkness below Gives a flying fuck Again I’ll express My emphatic statement Of disagreement Nope This is doom Via choices Made And ideals Laid This is chemistry Alchemy Two bad seeds Porous And numb Avoiding the signs That procreation Would be a mistake They did it anyway Because it felt good Only at that time Ever since It’s been utter hell Frailty She is And has been Refusing to give up To let herself down To bring herself To a level Upon which She could no longer Fall Be assured of this She’ll never be Anything but Sickly… Frailty Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015. |