Twisted Minded

Blow me a dream,
You whispered to the burning moth,
Who fell to the floor,
Which carved then and there, a sunken black notch

You had killed a living thing,
Yet it was harmless; so soft,

She smiled at you,
As she lay on the floor,
The dead smile of a doll,
Which again you saw
Like so many before..

Your mother, your lovers,
And now your own,
The impossible smile,
Of the child which had grown,

Yet the wind twisted in,
Through a crack in the wall,
And the fire had ceased,
The match had disappeared

Into a thousand flaws
Weaving over the Smokey Grey blanket
Of your misty, twisted scheme....