By My Own Hands
And the spirit flew into the house and whispered terrible words to the girl. Hearing nothing but her own thoughts (or so she thought), she gave into the darkness and subjected herself to the ultimate sin.
God looked upon her and saw her vile actions, performing for the spirit beside her. Yet another stone was cast, her judgement quickly striking her heart.
Although she knew her wrongdoings were great indeed, she turned away from the written truth and buried her mind into immorality. While the clock was still ticking, the wicked devil urged her farther into the addiction she'd known since childhood.
Feeling secure in the darkness, she complied. As her soul had long since broken, she assumed no mercy would befall her in the unforeseen, though her body inwardly quaked with fear. No, it was terror she felt.
When the night stilled, and the last action was put against her, the spirit plucked a strand of hair from her head and devoured it. He, as well as his seven brothers, would visit this foreboding darkness often.
For she will always be trapped. Coils of chain weighted down her filthy limbs, fresh meat peering through rub marks on her arms and ankles. Time and time again the dimmed metal was pulled cruelly in attempt to free her victimized reality. Only a human, the girl failed to notice such large links thudding at her feet.
Dancing before the child, the beast shook the room with crazed delight as he prided himself for his lies. Finally, after the demonic ritual ended in sick glory, he left her for a time.
For a night.
And I cry out to You, will it never end?
God forgive me.
Copyright © Wendy Miller | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment