A Happy Little Fucking Poem

A Happy Little Fucking Poem

My grip on sanity releases slowly.
The heavy constant drip of silence threatens to overlap and consume my mind.
It goes on. Moving on much like the world.
Its fetid stench moves before it like a tide of gore, its maw wide with dripping malice.
Hefting its foul fleshy body into the air. Drawing ever nearer.
Nearer. My demise. My insanity. Death
I welcome it with open arms. Peace
Blessed peace.
Now I change, transform, turn into that which I hate most.
I become.
I am the beast on wing of craven hopes
The oncoming storm
No peace
Fear goes before me as death goes after.
I care not.
Black as night and cold as stone.
I come.
Watch for me and quiver in your beds and warm homes.
I come.
Heed my warning. Insanity comes closer with every pump of your futile life force.
I come.
For you.

By The Hopeless writer

Author's Notes/Comments: 

What a happy little fucking poem that is eh? It should come with a warning. ****DANGER - IF YOU READ THIS YOU WILL LOSE SANITY****

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a.griffiths57's picture

Deciding and measuring

Deciding and measuring insanity is difficult I think, yet you have created a poem that describes it very well.  Who knows who will be next to be slain by the beast of mental ill health!! Like your word usage and descriptions a well written poem and an interesting read.