Pride in passion

I am proud of the disfigured image in your mind,
A mix between a vomit smell and a chilly air
Quivering helplessly in your gouging bed
(My greatest victory).

My pride in the empathetic tear is wireless,
Although lost love shed my purple blood
Depressive reactions from your brain
Is the sweetest band aid.

Forget the icicles hanging from my cold, cold soul
They will disappear, as I sense your eyes
(As they scan the words that do not exist)
Until a blaze larger than burning bras
Consumes the world of Shædow.

For some may call me insane!
However, I am merely just superfluous
For all those who utter blasphemy against their children
I say:
I am truly proud of my poetry.