There are people
who place knives along my throat
and guns upon my head.
They shout at me,
and gloat
as if to say that they have subdued me.
That I am theirs to capture and control.
But I have to laugh.
Because I am a hurricane,
and they have only a toothpick to protect them.
YOU ARE READING
When The Blood Ran Black
PoetryWhen my demon decided it wanted out, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I could only watch as bloodied claws pierced my skin and shadows leaked through my eyes in black teardrops. It wanted out, and I was content to let it roam. >>>&g...
