From My Diary: Introspection

This day so historically malevolent I seemed to have died within my soul As a pray to the clouds, though they Are dark and crossing the line of death I see the passing of my soul unto the Realms of her hands, beating me with Her significant scythes and touches me With the eyes of hatred, only protruded When life seems to end, and the soul Is emptied unto the heartless, where battles Have been lost for decades, I fathom Nothing more than her touch, cold, iron Breaching touch of hatred, lashing upon My loss: loss of power, loss of hope Loss of any shining entities to enter my Thrown soul, tossed into the pit of misery Where she stirs it like a cauldron, placing My tenderness into spasms of fear and Death upon every level, now she sees my True self, exposed, and so filled with love That she has missed throughout her life Now burning within the chasm of hatred! Entered into the contest "From My Diary," of Broken Wings Written: 2 November 2017