CHEEP CREEP.

Oh, how warranted appraise
Delivers conscience traveling
In mounting fists of crooked
Thoughts
Which I raise to the sky
Only to punish and pummel
That which is so forgiving
Moving, drifting, warming
Fleeing
...And falling
To my feet
As I cower
In my own bloodied hands
Terrified at the thought
Of the love in my mind