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Terribly TwistedTo K. R. Copeland's previous piece     Eve-Like ITo K. R. Copeland's next piece

The wretched stench of your deception
fills my lungs with such uncomfortable air
as so much
asphyxiates my innards

Your glib mistruths, spoken ropes of abuse
continue to noose my spirit
expunging my ability to trust
(you always were a stickler for details) 

You've paralyzed my emotional well-being
and in its place slumps
a heartless, hardened lump of immobility 

Your crippling lies have stricken me with strife
and I am lifeless