PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

the mirror spoke

to the soul of Aryn

in a deadening cause of fashion

he could feel the reflective's

displeasure

at his careless trespass upon

its rapturous staring

in a gargling whoosh

there were gashing spools

of snarled wire in his hair

spikes spitting out from his eyes

with long, dirty, sharp needles

bloodletting his foolishly unchecked lips

Aryn knew not how to mend nor expunge

such inadvertent foul deed

as his

without damaging his precarious predicament

any further

true evil

without welcome it would seem

had entered

to wed with Aryn's unhappy thoughts

poor gutted Aryn

he must so be missing

the days afar

when he still could claim

and quite truthfully so

sole possession

of his very own

thoughts

choices

and yes indeed

even soul

twistedly layered

hate spewing lyrics

the witchery of many

our soldiers of meek

our overly in rank tortured

today

the mistrustful ostracized youth

high school's own hell born..........

(written Sept. 26, 2001 645am)