The Bull

Instead of taking these small pills
I’ll drink the poison chalice,
blacken my organs, blood shall spill
I doubt my conscious will notice,

highly detected, frame and my brain
trying with might to be grounded,
wrong direction, fevers I gain
I’ve let my own body be wounded;

Hey at least I’m alive
with these rotting insides,
is that the great strive
to live and let die,

abide by the tide
keep the ghosts by your side
on this circular ride
counterfeit bona fide,

mustn’t take your own life
just let go of your strife,
oh, be somebody’s wife
you can still play with a knife;

don’t speak this to flaming guns
whilst already, brain on the run
has a fine body, only to shun
those spinning caught, it’s time to be done,

spirits will heal in their own unique way
don’t bother to study a pattern,
if these are souls that you’d like to save
the framework mustn’t be shattered,

already searching for pieces lost
from that puzzle caged in the skull,
words so vacant, mustn’t be tossed
the body’s the rider and brain is the bull.

Lindsey Martelle

Lindsey Martelle

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