Forgiveness

An old town square.
Cobbled streets stained with blood.
The new regime had abolished killing!
Preached forgiveness,
but how can one slay ghosts!

She stood, in the noon sun,
wrapped in a white shroud,
white as snow,
cold as ice.
The sinner,
the reviled,
the lady who betrayed her own kind.

The high magistrate,
in magnificent robes of gold,
looked down upon her,
repulsion mingled with pity.
Her punishment,
he cried,
is life!
Because our regime is a merciful regime,
our king is a forgiving king,
our people are a kind lot.
Yes, she shall live,
Live she shall!

The crowd eventually dispersed,
some cheated of blood,
their red lust still awake and roaring,
but the girl in the white shroud,
with a heart so black,
with her head hung low,
her eyes flowing over,
her arms tightly wrapped around,
knew she was punished,
beyond redemption.
Because she was the one cheated of death.
Her punishment was that,
she had to live with herself.

Glass Walls

Seems like centuries ago,
that I felt what it feels like,
to be wanted and to want
something I cannot have.

I built my walls,
of stone and ice.
Walls so deep,
and unforgiving.
I try to lock myself in,
and not feel a thing,
resisting primal instincts
and signs from above and beyond.

And then you came along,
and pushed your way through,
battling the ice,
breaking through the stone,
right till I can see you,
beyond a wall of glass;
a shiny veneer,
of what is real and what is not,
standing between us

The glass fogs,
as you put your hand on it,
beckoning to me.
I follow,
trancelike,
as if I'm surreal,
a ghost,
I am not sure what I feel towards you,
but I like being wanted.
Oh, the elixir of desire and attention,
awakens ghosts of the past!

Then I realize,
that I feel what it feels like,
to want something that I cannot have.
So I plaster the glass with mud.
Opaque now and dark again,
I blot you out of my heart.