Sin that is called flesh / POEM

It’s an ugly business

bein’ pretty and prime.

Fused with the innocence

and the no nonsense of the crime.

Mighty are those who looked yonder.

Wondered how

and why I wonder.

As I tread lightly

upon the wound that bleeds,

the very thing that is I

ebbs

in an elegant feast.

Voluptuous,

guests' eyes and mouths are on me.

Wondered how

and why I came to be.

Do I trade my soul

for the mere simplicity

of my flesh?

Foul smell,

warm blood,

and a dimly lit room.

Here lies the

husk of my grotesque form.