Under Willow Trees

Anoesis

Shadowed monsters don't reside under your bed,

nor do they dwell in dark recesses of your dusty, dank head.

Imaginative beings are not to be cowered under,

appreciated with feeble, fickle feelings.

Your monsters don't reside within confines,

chained to walls of a dirty subconscious,

but within their lives,

resides you,

a sinner walking among saints

hypocritically pointing fingers,

dripping liquid red passion on crisp white linen.

A sinner walks among his own vile kind.