Your name was downfall,
like the crestfallen look
that befalls my face.
You made me doubt all
I had to give.
Made me feel a disgrace.
You made me question
my reasons to live.
You made me stare at the floor,
instead of searching the skies
for someplace to soar.
Your name was regret,
like the secret grip
of a tentacled being
trying to rip my essence
from this place.
You made me wish
I'd never seen your face.
That we had
never met.
That instead
of turning right
I'd turned left
and found
a different
path instead.
Your name was expulsion,
like the explosive moments
of anger that stormed
every argument.
Every sneer curled lip
contorted in repulsion.
Every acidic remark
spat in convulsions.
Corroded and cast out
from every group,
excluded from all conversation.
A social castration.
No more salutations,
or celebrations,
Just destitute imagination.
If I'd known what I know now,
I'd never have bowed down
and worshipped you.
You rose from
the flames of my desires,
not on wings of hope,
but on the ill wind of liars.
Your name whispered in fear
over many years, stained in tears,
it feasts on happiness and mimics care.
The anti-muse
of old stories
is true.
Its real. The anti-muse is you.
The name
rings through the air
and into ears
that sit in solitude.
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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