murder she wrote

I am cornered with a rush of sadness

that creeps into my life.

It take the joy out of my smile

and leaves me with an emptiness in my heart.

It is all consuming,

toxic,

self-destructive.

But only if I let it.

So I channel this energy into my writing.

My pain smeared on every page,

like blood

to remind me that beautiful things can come from something so damaged

and so broken,

like me.