The Monsters We Make

The Monsters We Make – By Yours Truly.
Basking under lights of love,

Inviolable remains a naive heart.

Protected from shadows of Abaddon.

Flourishing under a doting hearth,

Molds into a beacon of mirth.

But that one... The one

who suffers your shame, your stones

Living devoid of nurturing care or hope

Oft is accursed

By blemishes of rancor

Christened with fetid impulse

As your infection makes home

In stygian mental alcoves,

Impregnating it with germs

Of Ignorance & mistrust.

Hiding in obvious,

It bides a convenience

to let the Devil you made

Come out and pounce.

© EntangledDesigns

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