A Norman Prays for his Lorrae

I am the sum
Of nowhere
Lying in the bed
Of my sacrifice
For nothing
In particular

Where lies
Your love
It is death
Surrounded by
The rotting
Of your mind

I cry
Clinging to the memory
Of our yesterdays
And our bloody nights

Still want you now
You are the word
One million paper cuts
Lie like sweat upon my brow

I’m not human
I don’t need to be loved
But I still want you
Just like
Any other man

© 2012, Mosquitobyte