Sin

What lies in wait, digging deep holes,

Stalking in shadows, preying on souls?

 

A smooth hand that could not lie,

Beckons with promise while blinding the eyes.

A soothing voice sings aloud,

And drowns the echoes of ancient howls.

Sleight of reason, minds are eased,

All while shackling hands and feet.

 

And so he goes.

At first slow,

And deliberately,

Until he sinks.

 

Then he plummets in,

Choosing while being led,

Conscious yet unconscious,

Awake but dead.

Honeyed hook through his nose,

Bound to follow,

Bombarded with delight,

Buried in sorrow.

 

He is lost,

A dead husk,

A trophy won,

A damned fool,

In darkness chained,

Awaiting his due.

 

And so I was.

 

© 2018 MILES VENISON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED