You stalk towards me.
With your menacing eyes trained upon my goose bumped skin - you pace forward.
Like the rattling rifles rapid ripple, your racked run reduces the rehearsed rhythm of my wretched heart.
My blood runs cold; frozen like simple ice at the glance of your face - the face of evil.
Your sudden movements fill my soul with trepidation.
Your every act incardinates my mind; I am infatuated by you.
The pulsating of your flesh alone is moral turpitude. You are sin. You are evil. You are...
When I was a child, I was fearful of the dark.
I would lay in bed, with my eyes wide shut...hoping for light.
I remember my mind being transported to a bright beach, while the daggers of a thousand shadows were being cast upon my flesh.
Shadow Spirits, I would call them.
As though the sacred sacrament of dedication would make such a fiendish, devilish, monstrous entity humane.
I recall giving them names.
My naïve, juvenile mind frequently entered a state of shock upon an encounter with any individual who happened to possess such a name. "They must be the human person.", I would think.
Is innocence not bliss?
If only I knew that Shadow Spirits were not the most villainous in the dark.
If only I knew that in in the dark ponders a most evil entity.
If only I knew that it was the root of all evil. Rape, murder, hate crimes and lies all stem from it.
If only I knew then.
Some call it iniquity.
Some call it sin.
Some call it moral turpitude.
As for me... I call it the mind; the true concentration camp of all things wrong.
If only I knew.
By Flow3try™
YOU ARE READING
My Words
PoetryA lot of my poems will probably be triggering...but I guess that is kind of the point. What's the point of a poem if it doesn't trigger you. If I do, then I guess it has done its job to reach whoever needs to reach it. Everything here is completely...
