I rise from ashes of taboo and sting,
a coiled whisper beneath everything—
my silence cuts, but my silence heals,
a blade that knows how Death feels.
I burn with secrets I never share,
smolder beneath a scorpion stare;
each line I pen, a venomous kiss,
a curse, a prayer, then a fatal bliss.
Beneath my skin, obsidian night—
seeking what hides from superficial sight.
What others do fear, I long to then know:
their wound, your loss, my undertow.
In shadow’s fold I make my lair,
a sentinel of all laid bare.
For I am passion forged by pain,
Scorpio soul within ink and flame.
Brilliantly penned, LDF. Great read my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Oooh, this was wickedly good.