Black, White, and Blood-Red All Over
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Why is there fog, thick with grim
from the breath of pursed lips
that blemishes the view
distorting the glass?....I ask you
Is there a peaceful place for the soul?
I stand by the window and peer through the blinds
The wind whips trees and muddles the mind
something sails through the dark with a thump I can hear
leers up at me with hopeless blind-sight,.. and tends once again
to instill me with fear
A tendril of grass from the devil's own hand
snakes its way up the porch
beyond the first step
And there….lies intrusion
an anthill away, ..it comes every day
to dim all the light …… no peace for the soul, blood red ever flows
There is always a grim taste of nightmarish reality,
It is not an illusion
a voice too inhuman….it reeks of the devil
not a game to be played
I can't hide like an ostrich…..but maybe I should
Deceit mixed with truth, only death in pursuit
Which has now been cloven by the worst of mankind
Now waits on the stoop
Rumpled and bound for the weary to find
Have I triumphed from fear
when I open the door
A slit to peek out,
take what lies at my feet?
What is black, what is white
what is read, bloody red
bringing dread, bringing grief
No solace, relief
Am I weak, without will, a moth drawn to the flame?
What is sane? What is real?
Where is peace for the soul?
There is death at my door
Always more, always more
…..where, Oh dear Lord, is there peace for the soul?
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9/14/16
Scare Me Good Poetry Contest
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
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