.
To whom it may concern.
To anyone who remembers me.
I bet you thought I was dead,
hidden in this house of lunacy.

You had me brought here,
so this letter to you I pen.
This place is cold and sterile,
I can't wait to be free again.

Was it for my own safety?
Or was it to safeguard yours?
I cannot recall the problem now,
my mind is stuck on pause.

They fill me up with pills,
keep my head in narcotic haze.
I have a soft and secure room
to smile away the days.

It will be good to see your faces
when they finally let me home.
I wish one of you would write,
or call me on the telephone.

Why do you never come and visit
The Moontouched man so mad?
I'm sorry you saw my melt-down,
sorry it made You feel that bad?

I hope you will read this letter,
the pen and paper I had to borrow.
But the drugs are starting to work,
I'm so drowsy now...
          ... I'll finish this tomorrow...


© Pagan Paul (2017/18)

.
Quiet! Shhh!
Can you hear it?
The animals are talking.
No, they are panicking.
Can you smell it?
The Forest is on fire.
My Forest is aflame!

I run, following nostrils singed with heat,
against the tide of the fleeing fauna.
Reaching the blaze I see....
eight of them.
My anger rises and erupts.
'STOP!' I bellow. They turn and draw swords.
My eyes narrow and a look of pure disdain unfolds.

I continue.
'I am Rook, Lord of the Forest Kingdom.
How dare you, enter my domain with no permission
and reek havoc on my Forest'.

A step is taken, toward me.
The eyes of a fighter glower, at me.
The point of a sword raises, threatening me.

I punish.
'For your transgressions and your destruction
you shall stand as stones, for eternity,
and as a warning to others'.

A scream pierces the air as a foot,
then another, compresses to rock.
The rest join the chorus, agony,
as each become statues,
twisted and contorted as
the Ancient Oaks they had destroyed.

My Oaks.
This is my Anger.
Would you care to see my Love?


© Pagan Paul (2018)