Evil
turns a leathery head to
roast the innocents behind it with its laser eyes.
Melting flesh pools at the feet of
bright-eyed children bouncing on its lap.
It slithers through an unsuspecting ear
poisoning blood, poking holes in skin,
then whispers love
and tucks its daughter into bed.
Evil
weeps at the thought of being left alone
even as it
stabs out the eyes of its kin.
Evil
draws rainbows in the sky
on a dreary day, just to make
the world a little happier,
using stolen paints.
Evil is,
or is it?
3 comments:
Whoasnap. You use a lot of descriptively gory images... but it makes sense given what you're writing about.
"then whispers love
and tucks its daughter into bed."
- That. Is. Amazing. You have this whole negative/horror theme going and then... you had that. It was unexpected, but undeniably profound. =]
Thanks! I thought this was a horrible poem, but then you and everyone in my creative writing class had all these good things to say about it.
XD Isn't it a wonderful feeling when that happens?
Anyway, it really is good. Spring would know some pretty bad poems... I think you've just got the disability of NOT being able to make those "bad" poems :D
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