The Body Possession Horror
It started as a whisper, faint,
A voice that slithered through my brain.
Not my own, but just as clear,
A presence lurking ever near.
At first, a shudder down my spine,
A fleeting thought that wasn’t mine.
Hands that moved without command,
Footsteps shifting in the sand.
My mouth would form a stranger’s sound,
Words escaping, unprofound.
My mirror’s face, though still my own,
Reflected something not alone.
I fought with will, with endless dread,
A war inside my weary head.
Yet every day, it took its claim,
My mind was dark, my soul felt maimed.
And then one night, no battle came,
No voice, no force, no phantom’s name.
Just silence where the echo stayed—
Was I the one who’d been betrayed?
Had I fought, or had I fled?
Was I me… or was I dead?
Copyright ©
Michael Fulkerson
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