In the beginning... A Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Entry |
Shackled A cold wind blows, the shadows dance. I stalk the streets deep in a trance. Loathing and fear flow in my veins as I await my crimson chains. I feel the stirring of pure hate from a hidden place. I can’t locate the source of this demonic cyst yet its opium I can’t resist. I’m captured, reason pushed aside, a passenger on this dark ride to a destination, yet unknown. The presence smiles. I’m not alone. My shadow skulks along the wall; it doesn’t look like me at all! It’s then I know that soon I’ll kill - to satisfy him, blood must spill! The innocent lay in their bed. A flash of steel and they are dead as laughter spills out from my throat; it’s him, not I, that stands and gloats. The smell of copper fills the air; my sacrifice to hate lays bare the festering I hold inside. Its vile intent can’t be denied. The chains that dragged me to this place are loosened and I feel disgrace as, once again, shackles drop free and, in disgust, I’m forced to flee. Repeat, retreat... each time the same. I find no respite from the blame of this dark demon with no name known widely as Whitechapel’s shame. An entry for Round 30, "Invalid Item" Prompt: Image (see above) Form: Quatrain Line Limit: 60 Line Count: 32 |