The Haunting

I know I’m too late//I can feel their hate.


The feeling inside me
has gone and defied me;
I cannot feel the pain.
I feel the desire.
The need will conspire.
I have nothing to gain.

There is nothing to say
so get out of my way;
I am going insane.
They will flee at the sight;
the taste of my delight:
the bullet hits my brain.

The want, or the need?
I can’t help but feed.
I am the only one they need to maim.
There’s nothing to save:
the lives that they crave.
No one should ever learn my name.

I know I’m too late.
I can feel their hate.
I can certainly feel my shame.
They people they cry,
they fall, and they die.
I have only myself to blame.

The spirits that haunt;
their desires and want:
the worst that exists of all.
The bells of doom chime;
the enemy is time
of which my release they call.

Memories referred;
the voices I have heard:
they enjoy watching me crawl.
The horror of death;
I have felt my last breath.
They laugh and watch as I fall.

In death it seems I rot;
my tired soul they shot,
their faces grim and gaunt.
My soul been taken well;
spread through corners of hell.
Just give them what they want.

The deeds done forever,
stained on those whichever;
those crying nonchalant.
The shadows up above;
the chiming bell which of
these ravaged streets I haunt.

~Sunshine Hauck

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

(Original image by ArtofTy of deviantart)

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