Morning of 14

Morning of 14.

Morning at 7:30 Am
She wakes up with twisted thoughts on her mind.
With pulse breeding guilt banging in her head.
Her heart is starting to explode within her.
Messing up it's beat, it skips like a corrupted record.
It's like a vulture crazed because he didn't kill another fellow.
Well, the crow that carried her into his car yesterday is still raping her imagination.
She'll never let this go.


Good Afternoon,
1:15 pm

This girl is still torn up from a rapture that took place in a cemetery where her mother lied.
Visiting her bed at night,  she always cuddles up with her moms grave wishing to die.
A man in disguise looking at her body while she's breaking her knees to pray to her mother.
This guy suffers from Necrophillia, feeding on corpses to full-fill his urges.
His wife at home thinks he's worthless.
He says he's working but he's really going to feast.
Goes to his own heaven to torture the dead.
Is this rage brought upon from the past?
Nobody really knows.
This fantasy will always last.


Good Evening,
6:45 pm
Her arms, legs, pelvic bone are all tighten up.
Tied to his brakes, he keeps on pushing.
The silence in this drive is driving her up the walls.
Her screams are a pleasure to a sick man.
Be quiet.
These hands bruises her neck,  as they go so far...into a tomb of this revolution.
In this chapter of The Revelations, the Anti-Christ isn't the devil. 
He'll never let this child go.

Goodnight at 11:59 pm.
They fell asleep in the back seat. 
Fell asleep to his violent lullabies.
Her  head is spinning around from the trauma.
Terrorized by the sinful guns that    pointed straight to her heart after the rapture began.
Tears drip from her face as she gets the monster off her stomach.
She started racing to her beloved home, manifesting to rest.
Passing depressing orchid trees and running from the shadow of a girl that she used to know. 
She's barely even 
breathing.
Too afraid to go inside from the pain of this lifeless night.
Tip toeing in her bedroom. 
She carelessly drops her back onto her Teddy.
Let the lonely begin.
Melancholy will now trap her in.