Sometimes I worry about the darkness
that lives inside.

The part that lives
and will not die

The one that is prepared
to kill every living thing

just to survive.

It is a part of me
of which I can not deny

The strength that comes
when I am weak

and tells me
that I will live


I hold its tongue
and dare not let it speak

the words that
it knows so well.

It calls to death
and bides it’s time


© 2014 Stephen Boothe


About txyogi

Sixty plus year old Network engineer, father, grandfather, webmaster, graphic designer, guitar/bass player, yogi from Texas. View all posts by txyogi

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