Pulling the skull pieces from the wall

The brain matter spread over it all.

You didn’t intend it but your last grace

Is that at least you didn’t destroy your face.


Maybe those you left behind will view

The pieces I put back together of you

But that wholeness, security you broke

Have burned and scattered in the smoke


Of that gun you put between your jaws

When you blew that hole through the laws

Of life. A life you rendered as a tithe

To the world’s darkness and Death’s scythe.


I look at your head, disfigured and displaced

And I can’t know the darkness you faced.

Perhaps the disfigurement is your artistry

Opening up to us the inside we couldn’t see.


“I see it! I see it!!! I SEE IT!!!” I yell

As I look upon the art of your hell

Behold your magnum opus is your final scene

But I will work to ruin it and make you clean


Of the blood, the cracked skull and pin

Together your broken, frayed, discolored skin

I will restore and embalm your broken head

While we all wish you back from the dead.

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