The ghost’s shadow burned
Onto the wall
Frigid,
We shatter and reconstruct
Ourselves back to something humanoid
Like eyes
Like mirrors;
A maze of rigid veins and viscera
Held together with pins
Sharp as glass
Stabbing like our
Self inflicted confliction
We were here
But only left shallow breaths
Courage swallowed back into our lungs
Spreading
Rotting
Damp
It rattles and chokes
The sins wept down our faces
Their triviality burns our eyes
Cold and clung to our chests
Manifested before the voyeurs
Of false prophets

More deconstruction. This time about my Mormon upbringing and how I resent it