WHITE SOUL




Despair filled the cruel spaces of dark



as she listened to that morbid old song,



reminding her heart over and over again



of her life so dusty, damp and wrong.




 

Sunless flowers crying in tight grey vases



hesitated shyly towards a rusty tall door,



withered leaves and some torn magazines



were reminiscences of a life lived before.




 

Empty and clean, she opened the drawer



for a small amount of dangerous energy,



hands trembling a bit, a thirst for eternity



as she snorted her white soul in synergy.




 

A thousand stars put flowers in her hair,



Her child’s eyes dilated, her blood did flow,



tremor, vertigo, she slept in her sweet depths,



but who cared? But who wanted to know?








 

Karla Bardanza

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