Killer Frame

What’s wrong with you?
When you stare your eyes at me,
I sense that there is a sharp tip

of angst nipping me to
several pieces and I am in no
comfort to stand normally in front of you.

Your moves become suspicious,
my doubts linger until the break of
dawn and I feel like the end of the world.

Someone tells me
how you have conquered everything
in your hands with wrong motives.

I am not delighted.
The death of your goodness is the
birth of heartbreaks of the many.



About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
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