The Devil

His touch is revolting,

hot. agressive. forced.

His breath rancid,

moist. surrounding. tainted.

His saliva was acidic,

impure. contaminated. corrosive.

I push away,

but I am overruled. 

My skin is burning off at his every touch.

I shake

as my flesh melts off my skeleton.

Looking down at myself,

I see a shell of who I once was.

I peer into his dark,

empty eyes

and it is too late for this to stop.

I am dancing with the devil,

but I can't move.

 

darkdevilfirst poststruggle

A Shell ►

Comments

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Darren J Beaney

Tue 5th Jun 2018 08:10

Strong words....

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keith jeffries

Mon 4th Jun 2018 23:16

Penelope, This is an interesting and imaginative poem of how you perceive evil and its master at work. A good poem
Thank you
Keith

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