The Black Lake

There exists a lake, both deep and black as the darkest night, Its surface reflects not a beam but captures all life’s light, As still as death and not a ripple mars its glassy top, Nothing moves upon its shores to disturb a single drop, In the lake there lays a keep, rising up straight and tall It reaches up like an arm of black, making you feel so small Its sides are smooth like the finest glass no purchase can be found All that tries to climb its walls falls quickly to the ground It stares forth with tall windows like thin cuts through galactic space Its mouth a soaring gothic arch with stony stairs completes its evil face Within the walls of the bastion of darkness and cold Lives something truly evil and ugly to behold It is twisted and warped into impossibly ugly shapes Enjoying the misery caused by others mistakes Regally enthroned in the highest tower of the keep It feeds on the sounds people make when they weep It finds sustenance in the pain and suffering of all Thus it loves nothing better than when innocents fall Hidden and protected by its black towering walls It sharpens it hatred into surgeon like tools To call such thing as this, alive, would be a terrible joke indeed It survives, it sustains and it breaths, but alive it can never be It died some time long ago, when it gave into the dark Its very existence now revolves around the souls that it can mark This thing was not always so dark and shrouded in black It was once a being bright with light on a righteous track But unceasing torture and endless hurt drove this thing insane It change from bright to darkest night as it learn to like the pain Now it blocks out its past and its once bright and joyful start And all the remains its hurt and pain in my broken and twisted heart.