Day 19’s prompt was to write about erasure, and so I’ve incorporated this into the piece.

Her mind was a splintered vortex
– a faux Genesis
where emulation
subverts reality
to creatively destroy

innocence.

Mocked by the ethereal echos
of maternal infamy…
as bloodshed becomes
an inkblot
upon the carnivorous canvass
of civilisation.
It’s meaning debated
while their haemorrhaging life force
is disembodied by decay.

Who writes the story when there is no victor?
barely, survivors…?

Distorted visions
of what is/was/wasn’t/could be…
and now will never be

anything other than Vallaslin;
for scars are glorified
but the memories…

Erase-