The blood
that drips from the dark moon is only that
of my shattered heart.
I roam the dark forest, feet dragging through
the damp floor. The mist begins to surround me. The scars
of my life engulf me. The demons
intertwine my damaged existence. I do not notice the person in the reflected
fog. The demons have my soul. I feel a
presence behind me.
I see his face through the mist. Wicked blue
eyes, mysterious smirk. His hands glide down my arms. Our hands connect, and I
feel a sense of energy rush through my battered soul. He slowly whispers in my
ear.
“Don’t let them tell you how to pace your life.”
My ghost is gone. I could feel what he
was telling me. These demons are supposed to
be my angels. But they have consumed my
passion. I would rather live a thousand lifetimes with the devil then
have the angels take my existence.
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