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#WritcoPoemPrompt58
I dreamt of falling down a well,
A narrow tube, deep beneath the earth,
Dark and moist, I became a small boy, clutching a pillow shaken in fear, hollowed in lonieness of love so dearth,
My very existence created in one's horror, by another's pleasure of torture, I wasn't meant to be, yet I'm here serving as their rapporteur,
Their evil doings tattooed upon my soul, at the act of my creation, and from each fowl word spoken onto me, with every ounce of pride and power effectively stripped away at the end each blow,
I bury my cackle like a rabid dhole,
The pain twists deep within my mind,
often rendering me blind,
Escaping bright light,
like an demon of darkness,
my shadow is only seen in the night,
Shivering in the cold not of the well,
But of the truth of my existence and
the stench of its smell.
© George Jodan
I dreamt of falling down a well,
A narrow tube, deep beneath the earth,
Dark and moist, I became a small boy, clutching a pillow shaken in fear, hollowed in lonieness of love so dearth,
My very existence created in one's horror, by another's pleasure of torture, I wasn't meant to be, yet I'm here serving as their rapporteur,
Their evil doings tattooed upon my soul, at the act of my creation, and from each fowl word spoken onto me, with every ounce of pride and power effectively stripped away at the end each blow,
I bury my cackle like a rabid dhole,
The pain twists deep within my mind,
often rendering me blind,
Escaping bright light,
like an demon of darkness,
my shadow is only seen in the night,
Shivering in the cold not of the well,
But of the truth of my existence and
the stench of its smell.
© George Jodan
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