Think of something positive.
A flower.
Thorns without a rose.
Butterfly.
Pretty enough to die.
A child.
Prey to the evil eye.
Hope.
Something that is used to control you.
Block you from the truth.
A sin.
Something where everyone's been.
A positive thought,
Is a beginning of a negative.
Multiple.
Inside people.
Tell me something positive.
It turns into the creeping vines,
Disgusting and disturbing lines,
That lead my story,
Into something scary,
Dark.
Depleted of any kind of good.
Based off the dark inside,
I have discovered it all.
Yet I don't fall.
It's just in me.
A home it can crawl back to anytime,
A continuous lyric in a rhyme.
Call me the walking thought of crime.
Torture.
Hurt.
Not the real thing,
But full of the thought.
You have positivity?
You better run.
Escape.  
Because your prey.