The Leeches

By
More by this author
My soul is hollowed out
Not by the nightmares
Dreamt in self-slumber

No.

'Tis the weightless
tricking the weighted misguided fools
crawling amongst the corridors.
Hiding in the shadows, they wait.

Happiness and love, they say.
Happiness and love.
But all they bring to the table
is naught.
Waiting to spring.

Upon us, they eat.
Upon us, they chew.
Upon us, they leech.

Chameleons.
Forever changing,
adapting, stealing,
slashing and burning.

They do not leave a trace of what they stole.
My personality, ripped.
My soul, diminished.
My heart, torn out.
I am not them, but them am I.

We are the baited.
They are the predators.
We are the weighted.
They are the weightless.

True emotion...
to be felt universally, is but a miracle.
It is not fantasy that frightens me,
but the artificial leeches that await my arrival
when I awaken.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback