The Mad Poet

As the poet began to write,

he felt a presence within.

a spirit entered his mind,

the moment he lifted his pen.

"I'm a spirit in your mind,

my blood thirsts for life,

your writing gives me strength,

strength to survive."

Then - the poet stopped writing,

for the spirit went away,

in hopes he'll write again,

later in the day.

Throughout the day the poet sits thinking...

what spirit invaded his mind?

one of evil,

or one intent on being kind.

night fell upon the poet,

now anxious to write,

while the moon above,

brightened the night.

as then he picked up his pen,

without a moment to spare,

the spirit now within his mind,

the poet feeling it there.

tic-toc, tic-toc

time etched upon a clock,

darkness fills the house-

a knock comes to the door.

racing down the stairs of his mind,

his feet barely touching the cold floor,

his heart beating with fear,

reaching the door finding the evil one there.

( will he greet him?

will he turn away?

it's now his call, I say!

I wait patiently, waiting to see,

hoping he will turn to me.)

The poet began to run,

though trapped within his mind,

the spirit gathers demons -

all that he can find.

"I've brought demons of torment,

your mind cannot withstand,

they'll tear apart your soul,

to make it my land!"

The poet, still trapped,

his body began to shake,

as he spoke,

evil noises he would make.

"I own your body now,

not much you can say,

my demons have your soul,

while you sit helpless-their prey."

His heart beat much faster...

then his heart suddenly stopped.

his breathing ended with a gasp,

as his eyelids slowly dropped.

the poet's aura faded quick,

with evil in his mind,

taking all his thoughts....

thoughts of every kind.

the demons now getting scared,

fear in their eyes,

realizing they too will be trapped,

if the poet dies.

it's too late - for the poets gone,

too late for the evil one,

too late for its spawn.

the pen falls from the poets hand,

as his writing finally comes to an end.