Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 5
The devil lies on top of my windowsill
With whispered spell. In an ensorcelling hell,
He sniffs tricks up his sleeves and his tongue has become numb
To the weeping and gnashing of his rotten teeth.
The words he speaks are only born to deceive.
He creeps into sleep inching towards my infant dreams
And takes their life from me. Hold my throat, abort my screams.
When I wake take all that I see; blind me to the truth with illusory inventions,
Fact erodes with the friction of silky fabrications. Hold me in your visions
As the phantoms sing hymns of their unholy afflictions, for eternities
I shall be trapped in his perdition.

Slur pee
Written by
Slur pee  24/F/Texas
Please log in to view and add comments on poems