Malignant.

Inept, bloated. We shamble,
This drunken waltz mocking the crackling faces upon
The portraits bourgeois, their eyes oozing
Spiteful scarlet.

We're sickly, pale skinned,
White-lipped, kissing their necks,
Placing affection upon tender napes,
chilling the ichor inside.

The visage of father speaks disdain,
Spittle dripping, falling on our faces.
He stands above us,
We cry below him.

Reviews

[m.s.early]

You have a talent that will be fueled by the experience yet to come. You may never have considered writing a hobby. Good, because this has the tone of vocation. I'm just finding your profile. I'm studying and enjoying. Keep the faith.

[E. Greene]

Thank you very much for the feedback. I'm trying very hard to work out what kinks I have and improve my writing. Truly, I appreciate the positive feedback. It will keep me motivatedd.