It Consumes (An Ottava rima Poem)

Fire and brimstone in her fury filled gaze

Burning her enemies, forever scarred.

She dances around the ashes and blaze,

A wicked smile bears teeth, her face unmarred.

Death abounds, surrounds, holds her in its maze.

A game she thought to play, leaves her in shards.

For Wrath creates victims, ripping out hearts.

Lives left damaged, long after it departs.


Coldness coiled tightly

Deeper than deep.

Shivering into vacant space

Lost on the edge

Wrapped in lies

Wrapped in truths.

What to do?

Warmth flees the body

Shards of ice

Poke, prod, tear.

Surrendering to it

This internal winter

Not an option.

The Soul’s a spirit

Willing to slip.

Can’t let it.

What to do?


Sleep for now.