I was waiting,
waiting eternally for
that Midas touch
a touch so divine
which will turn my pitiful
existence into gold
and will leave me
mesmerized and enamored
a beauty,
gilded and chiseled to the core
I fervently wait for that divine touch
but your scathing anger
incinerate my soul
and stirs me from within
leaving a charred pile
of ashes and cinder
spilling out of its mold
And all that insults
dripping from
your sullen mouth
and ashen heart
bloated
your
manly ego
turned my
ephemeral self
to a bleeding lump of gold.
Photo by Daniel Curran on Unsplash
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