A Scary Story

Well, yes, I sense that doom is nigh,
My own, and that I summoned it.
I've done such things before, and
Watched, with helpless horror,
As whatever was became what
Couldn't be. I've walked away, and
Started over, less with less, and
Pledged to curb...enthusiasms?
Not exactly; some dark force inside
Of me, which hates its jailer, waits
Until the time is right, and then,
Because the jailer lets it have the
Key, escapes. I think you know
The rest. It's doom, but, no, it
Isn't nigh. It's here. It always
Was. It always is.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 39 times
Written on 2010-03-13 at 13:18

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