The Queen of The Jungle
it's an open field
of bleeding daisies
and experience grown on dying trees
it's love lost in ant hills
discarded car doors
under leaves
it's blackbirds without given names
that co-exist
without given names
it's twisted twigs
used as swords
paper trees as vampire capes
in hordes
of childish imagery
save murder, save rape
the laughter echoing through out this hollow forest of my soul
it's anger locked in trunks
with suffocated children, our young trolls,
it's a misunderstanding between me and God
and us being too stubborn to
it's wanting to hear a different voice other than my echo
it's not being able to think
about anything but insects
crawling up my pink flesh
frozen in fear
it's sand holes
and man wholes
and dead deer
who know the whos
and the wheres
and the whys
it's my own eyes
carved into these tall mocking trees
clawing for a freedom that
will just
never
be
The Queen of the Jungle.
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