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Dark Epiphany

At home in darkness

By Amanda LyonsPublished 4 years ago 1 min read
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Photo by Peter Forster on Unsplash

I am adjusting to having finally found myself

In the shadows, in the darkness.

I discovered myself,

not crouching or hiding.

Not in a lowly fetal position do I cringe in fear.

The darkness, the shadows.

Quite to my surprise yet fear do I stand.

I stand in the darkness.

Lurking, with my dagger in one hand, my whip in the other.

There I stand, a menacingly watchful eye fixed upon the inhumanes.

They scurry about in their futile lives.

You may sometimes hear the chains as I walk,

clanging as I run after them.

Prey, not an innocent victim.

I am no liberator. I do not rescue.

I embrace my darkness, they do not welcome it.

Torment is all I give them. They cannot accept.

The fear is palpable, intoxicating.

My soul sits comfortably in the depths of darkness.

A log bleached by the sun still lies isolated on the shore,

Oblivious to it's journey, it sits in pain.

It must learn the journey, it cannot change, it must accept.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Amanda Lyons

Eclectic stream of consciousness and dark surrealism. What photography does for life I do for thought, emotions, and experiences. The genres can range from romance to horror but my favorite is suspense.

[email protected]

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