Moist Evil

April 8, 2021 10:09 pm EDT

Ups,
Downs,
Ins,
Outs;
The grey sneaks under the door,
Slides across the bare wood floor,
Like low fog;
Chilling,
Cold;
Darkness tickles the soul,
Awakens the past,
And the battle…
Begins.
Ups,
Downs,
Stuck in an ancient mind,
With the fast beating heart of a scarred toddler,
And the grey, moist darkness overtakes,
Weaves through the lost souls,
As the old bones,
Buried shallow in the blooming garden,
Rise through the soil,
And dance.

Type: Poetry

Share this page on Twitter.