a/n: This poem is a bit gruesome.
It would fit well in the horror genre.
DO NOT READ this one if you aren't
CERTAIN you are ready to handle that.
Consider yourself WARNED!!!!
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Upon a lonely stroll in frosted
moonlight, crisp grass crunching
snapped me from my burdened
mind and drew my weary eye
to a snowy hood as an unseen
face approached.
Through the insulating stillness
imprisoning us,
soft whispers
were spilt from the depths
of a whimpering soul:
"Help me please,
A soul to squeeze
From a hideous troll
A head must roll
For thee surely doth see
What hath been done to me
It's put out my sight
And stolen my light
I've done fought back
But strength I lack
And courage too
For unlike you
My only weapons are claws
And my snapping jaws."
"Where, I ask,
May I tackle this task?
For to battle this troll
And watch its head roll
Is the least I can do
For such victim as you."
So my pitiful acquaintance in
snowy hood led me through the
frosted moonlight to the lair of this
terrible troll. Through the foggy
stillness that imprisoned us,
soft whispers
were spilt from the depths
of a whimpering soul:
"I lead the way
Where hell doth lay
Sorry I'm slow
Yet as I go
I feel my way
For my torturer today
Hath whispered lies
And thieved my eyes
I learn the street
With soles of feet
As no feeling lingers
On tips of fingers
For as it doth play
It chops them away"
"I see we draw near,
For your demeanor
Grows drear."
So it was that my pitied acquaintance
showed me into the lair of the troll
which happened to be a dimly lit
room in the very cottage they
themselves inhabited. As I
cautiously searched the small room
I quickly concluded that the
troll had left, yet
a feeling of doom
spilt into the depths
of my charitable soul.
For I saw a vision
Much darker than prison
A sight no drearer
Than crimsoned mirror
And at height of my eye
Red mop hung to dry
Stepping into this space
Mop covered their face
Air broken by scream
As from a bad dream
They clawed their face
At furious pace
Their teeth snapping
At hands slapping
I tried to step in
Yet that was when
They gripped my dagger
And made me stagger
As I spilt my life on the chilled stone
floor, contemplating the unsuspected
insanity that had slaughtered me,
I saw I had been blinded by empathy.
As a cool fog settled over me,
soft whispers
were spilt from the depths
of my whimpering soul:
"When helping another
Let first you discover
True nature
Of danger
And try very hard
To keep up your guard
For charity today
Hath bled me away."
YOU ARE READING
What I 'Felt' To Say Was...
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