Inside of me there is an asylum,
surrounded by a moat of milky light bulbs;
the only bridge burned long ago.
The dungeon holds a dragonfly
Whose eyes spurt sparks that fuel
the ferocity between my tongue and teeth.
The blaze creeps into all but the attic,
so I need to borrow a flashlight to find
the Lost One, locked up for her innocence.
The patients of my shattered psyche have swallowed the key
Which one could it be?
Crystal is busy, cleaning:
Picking up poisoned pieces that scald her brain with blood.
Rayen has regressed:
Always deceiving, the single spotlight of sunshine.
Wynter is worn with woe,
Cold and conceited, drowning in the melting of her heart.
Above all the worries of the world, although her mind is the gutter.
Eryn is destroying everything.
When her hand hits the glass, they both splinter apart,
Making more of a mess for Crystal to clean up.
So the Oroborus continues to be fed by the chaos running around in my head.
My dragonfly only dreams of escape,
But I twisted his wings together so he may
Never see his beautiful butterfly again
This leaves me in the office, holding a shard of glass
Given a grim choice to finally put an end to this cycle.
Which one should I gut first?
Without any of them I will be left
Less of a puzzle missing a piece
And more a child orphaned by her toys
So who’s to say one won’t just be bought to replace the loss?