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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