Flicker of Withered Self

parasites

We are the silhouettes that dance across the back

of your mind.

We are the voices you try to drown with alcohol.

We are the fear that grips your heart with icy cold touch.

We are what your nightmares are made up of.

We are you,

the twisted part of you buried deep inside that has

just found its root.

And we'll drag you down to the darkest place you can imagine

where the water spews molten lead

and where we worship the Devil for a king.

My favourite commenter will get a shoutout in the next poem. So don't forget to leave your interpretations below. And don't forget to vote. xx