Battered Virgin of Malice (age 13)

Battered Virgin of Malice
I found you cold with fright
Cursing at God
And your ambitious Saints.
Carcasses of murdered angels
lay at your feet
Mouths still bloody from their feast.
Half stuffed kitten curled in your arms.

She knows your hold
on our lies
comforting spite,
in her eyes.

Battered Virgin of Malice
Dancing in silent circles
Reciting nurser rhymes
from a childhood forgotten
Screaming at life
praying for death
wrists torn red
in an effortless fit.

She knows her hold
on our lies
comforting spite in her eyes

Battered Virgin of Malice
How can you be so bold?
Baring your soul,
stealing the show.
The puppet is in your hands,
playing out your goal.