Shy away my dear,
Call me by the name
of my forefathers,
Splendid, is their cry of the night,
Hoarse and sultry
with deep chuckles reverberating
from their upturned bellies.
Fly away my dear,
For I hold the power
to rage the earth
rip it from the inside out
and send it spiraling to it's extinction
Let its blood simmer
beneath my fingers
a horror foretold
by the oracles of the sun
as the scry for prophecies
of their shattered future.
Run away my dear,
You're going to break
from the sword
that I carved from your bones
and the sling
from the skin of your soul
will be your downfall.
Your beautiful voice
will be the one I use
to seduce you from the nest
you were born in.
YOU ARE READING
To The Introverts
PoetryAt the unforgiving eyes of the world, I lay here with a pen in hand, To write about the secrets I keep, The untold stories of an introvert.
