pitch-black ropes

You wrap those pitch-black ropes around
the small, pale figurines that surround.
You tie the knots, pull them taut,
and know not how the bindings rot.
You have no friends and your family hides
away from your blackened eyes.
Needing the control, the ropes choke them,
and as you pull, you choke within.

The lies in your snarly mouth tangle
with "love" and "sorry". Enough to strangle.
The ropes made of tears you wouldn't shed
now dig in our skin until we've bled.
The blackness, it seeps then drips,
coating us figurines like deathly rips.
Our eyes blacken, clay cracks,

wills slacken, passions lax.

Slick with tears, I slip away. 

You have lost.

Author's Note

A poems I write in a sitting or two... Not too fond of it but I figured I would publish it anyway. Perhaps you know someone like this?