To the very core of my poor vile being

Tell, why do I kiss her lips that curse me?
Mock me to the very core of my poor vile being.
As though I were a boil, filled with brie,

A carbuncle: a thing, oozing…
Each word unfurls her raven’s wing.
Her Magpies beak pecking out the, stars.

Where’s the sanctuary from those talon scars…?
Each, light snuffed; light years away…
Till the dark; proliferates the day.

Light, truly did once shine so blinding.
Love suffused; lawfully binding.