The making of a monster

I wish I could take back the roses that are lying on the street

Take back with each petal all the forsaken memories

Tied together by the roaring thunders of sordid nights that imploded sex

Please make me live a fulfilled life of shenanigans and regrets

Guilt be the suffering that clings to my soul till death

Lust be the driving force of the being in me with each breath

Murder? That’s an easy act.

Cutting throats and breaking backs.

Loading down on cigarettes

Love? Sailing away on the smoke.

Lust? The beast unknown that is a stranger I meet everyday.

Forgiven? No more.

Forgotten? Those verses from childhood my mother used to say:

Pray.