CRUSADE.

And when the head begins to SPLIT- I KNOW SHE IS COMING

Running, charging, an animal yet gunning; before me, after me- MYSELF -crafty, cunning

I am ME, but so is she, fractured, counterparts, ALTERS

But who was born and who made from scorn is where our cut mind falters

Because impossible to tell, who came from hell, and who now belongs to Him

As she is me as I am her, and sanity once thick, lies slim

Before I wake, when sleep does take, I FEEL her more then see-

In our dreams, by any means, the one who ISN’T, but IS, indeed, ME

Weeping and gnashing, tears, cuts, and gashing, we, NO-

I

AM

RIPPING

APART

Because, of COURSE, it’s JUST me in MY mindful occupancy; simply one being- NO MORE

But if THAT’S the truth, WHO is the sleuth that plagues ME with visions; BLOOD AND GORE

Opal to onyx - velvet to chronics, and I can’t see anymore