Tonight is as black as emptiness,
The moon permeates his only window.

A hot lamp sitting to the right of me, He asks himself:
Was this worth it?

A mere doodle transformed into dark sketch lines,
Pooling each other’s energy into complex shapes

And from these shapes form sophisticated figures
Figures from the dregs of his mind.

All his anger, his frustration;
his sorrow and agony,
fusing together to form this dark imagery.

It fought for tangibility,
It raged for contact with the physical world.
The boy couldn’t control it.
His subconscious efforts drew each line,
with compassion and hatred in his eyes.

A crooked smile here and red eyes over there;
gashes over her face and eyes in her hair
He didn’t forget the blood and he didn’t forget the stitches
Altogether spells the definition of a demon.

The boy was exhausted; drowsy and bloodshot
But his mind was fierce; urging to finish it.
He could feel it, a surge of emotion
coursing through his mind and will.

There it laid.
The horror splattered onto his canvas.
His lady glared at him with intimidation,
Her bleeding smile hysterical with content.

The eyes in her hair witnessed the boy’s terror,
For he had created a monster, a demon in despair.

The boy attempted to sleep, but the image stayed;
plagued in his mind.