the mind's recesses

venom

fangs in her mouth.
poison on her lips.
echoing a snake in the
sway of her hips.

long, pointed nails
like the claws of a beast.
maniacal laughter when
she begins her feast.

she walks with purpose;
others move out of sight.
if you are trembling,
she won't pity your plight.

countless innocents
that become her prey
(do they want to be?
well, they have no say).

i'm another victim
to her insatiable greed.
the more lives she consumes,
the more she must feed

on the spirits of people,
who can't see the lies -
who can't turn away
from the wide, pretty eyes.

but if my death means
she will one day be free -
i will give in, and let
her feast upon me.

for the poison she uses
isn't from her own sins:
it comes from the demons
that live deep within.