Challenge
Challenge of the Week CCVI
You've found yourself standing at the gates of Hell, and you're given a typewriter and one page waiting in it. You have one short poem to either keep you out, or shove you in.
peace
i peeled off my skin
dipped them in the river
that had the color
of your name
unraveled my bones
and carved the ridges
of your face
into the bony white
- deathetix