I found you again,
hiding in amongst all your
periods and. . . .

Letters, tall and oh so proper,
a calm, intimate facade
that abruptly lets loose
like the slice of a knife
to jolt complacency’s drivel.

You were built of grey and white, child.
Soul lacking in your hasty construct,
a withered eye and censor tacking.
But we are not fools,
we know what you are.

Game always senses
the savage in their midst.
The snarling, gouged creature
barely held in check by
periods and. . . .


First Published by: Full of Crow
Publication Date – July 24, 2017
Issue # – Spring/Summer 2017
Link to my poem




About Reality's Bellow

I like to ponder life's eccentricities. I don't really want to explain them or even understand them, just ponder...
This entry was posted in Horror, Speculative and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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