Fear Of The Darker Half

The savage half that lurks

Within the sensitive little child.

The rabid ravenous wolf

That hungers for revenge.

The blinding red rage,

Demanding fresh sacrifice.

The violent satisfaction

Of devouring any threat.

Any perceived aggression

Like a beckoning full-moon,

Distorting the human form

Into malevolent mutation.

A child’s broken heart

Like the inner bleeding soul,

Nailed in and buried

Under cruelty’s creation.

The ferocity of retribution,

Destroying enemies and friends.

Offenders of the self,

Worthy offerings for the fiend.

Survival of the fittest

Gratifying primal urges,

The fear of being touched

And suffering more pain.

 

The Doll

Miss. Luscious, the porcelain beauty emblem

Plasticized and commoditized for their convenience

Re-dressed, repressed, made up with makeup

Displayed in lavish pageantry  with fine lace adornment

 

As beautiful things are jealously guarded

The Doll wrapped fresh, in moisturized flesh

Dressed as regally as any aristocratic darling

Possessed as preciously as a Paradise Lost

 

Patterns and shapes form in still minds

The Doll watches and waits behind it’s glass

So the masters who greedily horde their pets

Observed through heavily lidded lenses indisposed

 

On an unsuspecting night of lax consciousness

Porcelain fingers wrap their way around knives

And dragons that sleep on their piles of gold

Wake to find cold cutting metal in their sides

 

Dolls always smile with the faces they were painted

And they only repress as is needed to survive

Glass cases and ribbons may be used to restrain them

But you cannot assuage the specter that’s inside