B.R.O.K.E.N

Little I knew Satan wanted me broken. 
He threw powder into my eyes and kept 
me drunk, lost into a ring of confusion 
so he could feed on my brokenness if 
not he would die of starvation. 

Piece by piece he wanted to finish me 
whole until there was nothing left but 
the skeleton and when he saw the hurt, 
the sunken eyes, he acted victorious.

Like a mighty conqueror he pulled up 
his trouser then he gave me a cold kiss 
on the cheek with a smirk to proudly 
seal the deal, he had won.

From the Collection of Ink Noir 

Copyright © Angella Ricot

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