The Dark of Darkest Night
In the dark of darkest night, the demons always start their preying;
preying, hidden from the light, on minds of souls whose lives are fraying.
Fraying into tattered shreds from games deceitful friends are playing;
playing in their weary heads without a care the price they’re paying.
Paying with their sanity, these weary souls are ever weighing;
weighing inhumanity by demons and the minds they’re slaying.
Slaying all their lifelong dreams, destroying hope that leaves them swaying;
swaying souls with raveled seams, as demons of the dark are preying.
May 9, 2019
Copyright © John Gondolf | Year Posted 2019
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