Death Wish
A whore with no other name such is she,
tied to a whipping post to get up and flee,
a life of sadness so her story goes,
driven to see how the bad blood flows,
a slicing neat and clean upon her wrists,
a confrontation with an angel tryst,
or a sacrament at the devil’s table due,
the rite of the whore, the cunning shrew,
death, a lovely rapture up ahead,
with roses piled upon her bed,
traveling to places here and far,
midnight rides in a blackened garb,
floating through space and timeless time,
air of silence with nothing on her mind,
an empty soul in search of a better place,
with hope and finality written on her face,
her arrival at the door of the promised one,
the father she didn’t know or never cared.
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