The October Diaries XXIX | Twofold

October 29,

Black petals wilt to ribbons

Our skies a beatific reflection

Of our devils tempted by honesty

The lies spoken in truth's disguise

To taste what killing feels like

Nothing haunts better than regret

For fear of what end's been worsened

We flee moments bred to live

Left in the mud, cast in the gutters

This is what we become, murderers

So frightening, their sharpened teeth

Our demons gnawing upon dreams

Yet seldom they act without our consent

Embracing this asymmetry grotesque

So we make of ourselves, faultless

Like for like, thought for thought

It all seems misshapen and contorted

Unjust, wildly misplaced, our fragility

Squandered and traded for waste

We wail with why's, then don a face

For answers are best left softened

Their bitterness traded for repentence

As our monsters growing still

Hiding as they've always been

There under our beds, asleep

In the nightmares of us, we bred

To be not angels, but demons instead