Death Bed...
Today I made my own death bed,I built the frame from rotten wood,
I wiped it down with hatred,
And then purged the grain with mud,
Its feet I have made from the talons of a wingless phoenix,
Its legs from the scales on a lizards back,
I have propped it up against the wall using bits of broken bricks,
And then I sprayed all of it dark black,
I lined the pillows with the petals of a dying rose,
Placed neatly upon one another,
Upon each one I have scrawled third century prose,
To mock my mocking bird of a mother,
The head board is crafted from silver ravens,
Their claws shall tear at my hair,
I have painted them with the life's blood of the craven,
With the blood of those that didn't care,
I have laid out a tiger skin as the sheet,
Its dead fur warmer than any emotion I've felt,
Its golden eyes shall give off an evil heat,
And the tassels on its paws shall all melt,
I have embroidered on the quilt a thousand crying eyes,
I have sprinkled acid in all of them burning out their sight,
I have used a knife as my needle and my thread is a chain of lies,
I have wrapped my death bed in chains to keep me safe at night,
I have filled up the cushions with the wings of a dead hawk,
And I have propped them up with bones ground to dust,
I have made a blanket from crumbling white chalk,
And decorated the corners with the treachery of the just,
I have placed shackles at its edges to keep me from running away,
I have lined the left side with barbed wire because I know I'm all alone,
There are spikes at its base so I cannot kneel and pray,
I built a fence around my death bed to keep me on my own,
I have made the mattress out of shards of glass,
I have wrapped them in cellophane,
So that the edges spin around like a compass,
And in each direction I find a new level of pain,
I have blocked out the window,
But I tore off the ceiling,
I can see no sunlight but I feel the snow,
I feel the acid tears of those still unbelieving,
I have thrown away all hope of heaven,
And unclasped the lock on my hell,
This death bed is my family, my brethren,
This is my concrete grave but no one can tell,
Today I gathered all my discord,
And built up a glorious death bed,
A place for all creation, imperfect and flawed,
A place for me to lie when I'm dead.
Poetry by TeeTee
Read 531 times
Written on 2007-03-26 at 18:33
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