ÒJÌJÍFÌRÍ

ÒJÌJÍFÌRÍ - The Soul-less shadow

The shadow…
Even the moon dreads the night,
It hides its ugly head under the clouds,
Can the winds be any chilly?
The night stills as he walks by.

The shadow…
He's on the prowl I tell you,
An evil grin adorns his ugly face,
One who jerks off to the wails of men,
And the sounds of their cry.

The shadow…
Feeds on souls and laughs maniacally as they draw their last breath,
His sting was worse than that of the scorpion,
And poison deadlier than the serpent.

The shadow…
Slave to none and master of all.
Can anyone ever escape his claws?
He sinks his fangs into men and sucks out their souls,
Like a thirsty vampire.

The shadow…
Takes the infant from their mother's arms and marvels at their bitter tears,
Their tears to him like freshly made wine,
Their cries, a lullaby that pulls him to rest.

The shadow…
Men hate him, they despise him,
An attention seeker is what he is,
To be noticed is what he has always wanted.
So when men scream and curse him
He moans in ecstasy, fulfilment he calls it,
A pleasure peak.

The shadow…
Men fear him so while they sleep they wander
When he will come visiting,
They clutch their pillows and hug their young
And with their eyes wide open.

The shadow…
In the morn, they wake to the cries of their neighbours,
He just took a soul for keeps,
Left him a replica of himself,
Soulless, lifeless, emotionless and void.

Òìjífìrí - The Soulless Shadow