A lovely lullaby (Graphic Short)
A distraught lullaby crawls through the night, howling beyond the windows to ears which seek the forgiveness of a virgin and the worship of a hundred ruined nuns.
A lullaby which holds your mind gently like a womb cradles life.
As though magnetic in stature you’re the muscle, the soul, the being, the nature.
A lullaby which metamorphed into a creature, a creature which grew to fondle memories. Create doubts, blot out the screams you can’t live without.
A lullaby, hush little baby don’t you cry, mummy’s not coming home tonight.
A lullaby which couldn’t right a wrong. No matter the intention a lullaby is just a song.
Haunting, daunting, compassionate and rewarding.
A lullaby can bring you joy. The scabbard to rest your sword in.
Allow my ink, my ilk, my worthless self contained, maimed pages of blod given woe to melt into a face. The face of innocence in red on the page before you as you listen intently for all you don’t wish to hear.
A distraught lullaby.
© G.P Williamson 2017