Writings of a creature
Beneath the dark torn cloak, shadows
of a specter stitched from fear and plight.
Eyes burn with borrowed menace,
shielding a porcelain body.
Each step echoes hollow strength,
clinging to the cloth’s shroud,
a second skin.
But the figure quivers, silent and small,
a fragile soul, fleeing fleeting sorrow.
In the dark, they creep.
Vine-like arms, seek
prey like you.
Innocence is lost at dusk,
your mind is reduced to a husk,
behind eye’s bars, you are stuck.
Sinking restraints crept.
Holding you in place.
Trying again to make you fade.
Moonlight shines at the window
illuminating your scared face,
trembling limbs, shedding leaves, discase.
Shivering air suffocates,
the pressure starts to ache
it comes from everywhere –
and you won’t escape.
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