63 27 11

Violence became my aching obsession,

fed by the screams of wallowing depression.

Every night, I become a different man,

a wicked beast with a sinister plan.

My withered home filled to the brim with dead clergyman,

blood spattered as far as it can span.

I feel the voices taking over,

like the hallowed spirits of bleak October.

My inner desires have taken physical form,

shadows swirl around me in a furious storm.

Now they see me for what I truly am,

a violent heathen of the damned.

My dirty soul claimed by my own possession,

the monster in the mirror holds my filthy confession.

Nocturnal Lullabies (#Wattys2018 Winner)Read this story for FREE!