Lucrecia Hurts
Lucrecia is bleeding
inside.
She loves the rage that
tears her to shreds.
Lucrecia swallows pain
and it immolates her mind;
Crecia lives in morose ecstasy.
The heart that leaks bright crimson
is screaming incoherently.
It wants release—
It tries so fervently!
Her death,
like great winged demons,
swoops down on her soul.
Lucrecia stares in horror:
The darkness consumes her whole.
Poor girl in the black of night,
poor girl so full of fright.
She's crying tears of blood for
the red that stains the hands of her lovers—
and herself.
Lucrecia mourns the reverie
as the silent poetry of devotion
leaks from her mouth.
She is old in her disposition,
like a dust-laden room where
morbid secrets are kept
locked up in a hidden basement.
Lucrecia can't see beyond regret,
so instead,
she wept
for dreams instead of nightmares.
But the incubus thrives.
Lucrecia hurts.
--Emerald Eyes
02.27.02.