Anthony Mathias | + Follow Poet |
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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.

Copyright © Anthony Mathias | Year Posted 2008

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