John Wilson - Black Despair

His Devils Had Him

 

It wasn’t a mystery any longer

After some intense attention,

Making notes of the truth behind

His continued downward spiral.

Wanting to figure out where it started

Which to him had never been clear,

Although it all coincided with what ended

The growth of his spirit and his hair.

Having uprooted lives for his convenience

Leaving so many fallen into rubble,

But still banking on his innocence

While withdrawing from their upheaval.

After slighting love and losing

Now trying to put together pieces

Yet still unable to face the effect

From the cause of his old choices

The tragedies that he dreaded

Were born in mild untruths and fibs

As he buried many victims

Into the graveness his cunning would dig

It was the curd of his deceit

Having soured into false pride

That had fouled up his potential

No silver lining his cloudy grey skies

Some of his toughest calculations

Were accounting for his evil ways

When his devils had him cornered

Between a precipice and a hard place

He could hardly have imagined

That the abandonment of his spirit

Locking out love at every angle

Would so acutely cause his decent.

The truth of himself scared him

Figuring out how his corrosion had come

From all his artificial sweetness

While his heart remained numb

It was coming to these conclusions

That had caused his heart attack

For the honesty had been too much

To survive the pains of looking back.

 

Ria 2015

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