Wickedness Lives In His Name
No love grows inside his flesh or thoughts
Wickedness Lives In His Name
The room chilled fast,
When he stepped in,
As if the walls knew
What he carried inside.
He spoke in riddles,
Smiling thin,
A crooked charm
That felt like a threat.
His name alone
Darkened the air,
Heavy as a memory
No one wants back.
People watched him,
Afraid to blink,
In case his stare
Chose them next.
I saw the truth,
Hidden in his grin,
A hunger that twisted
Every breath he took.
His hands moved slow,
As if tasting the fear,
Drawing in power
From trembling hearts.
Whispers followed him,
Old as the night,
Stories of cruelty
Left in his path.
Wickedness lived
In his very name,
Carved deep in his soul
Like a curse he welcomed.
And when he left,
The room breathed again,
As if the world itself
Exhaled in relief.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
This is a person in my opinion to be afraid of for reasons mentioned. Good one.