Many Mad Women.

You, you are engraved in my mind
an image burned within my brain
I am with sight, never is love blind
you are the vermin coursed in my vein

Like hair growing within my scalp and root
I pull you out, yet you grow much longer
like threads of fiber in rotten fruit
but growth often doesn't make one stronger.

Growing like the dirt beneath my nails
I cut you off, but you grew sharper
you scarred my skin like beastly scales
itching the fur of my brain like a whisper

Many mad women, many women in love
many love stories, but not one tale is true
staining like blood on a leather glove
but who would wash up the blood for you?


Many women in love, many mad women
the truth does not lie in romance and fiction.