This is the great cleansing…
Open the windows and the doors,
Smoke out the dead, the old and broken,
Burn out the pain, the sorrows and emptiness.
We Bury and Burn Them,
Pieces of us that we were wishing for,
Maybe we swallowed them,
maybe we spat them out.
Watch yourself die
In paper and ink
A thousand times;
And a thousand times
Copyright 2014 of Nightshade author of The Purple Broom