Confessions

Fire envelopes my soul.

It brings light to this grave.

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Though I sleep, I can feel that I am cold.

A presence is here, watching, making me its slave.

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A thickened, petulant voice calls from the darkness.

It screams and I awake.

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These words written on my arm…hopeless?

I look around, I do not recognize this place.

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My road is nowhere to be found.

I only see the forest for the trees.

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There’s a knife in my hand?

I see the wound and I wished I could bleed.

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What have I become?

I did not ask for this.

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This nightmare pulls me undone.

Where is my youth?

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Decisions.

I toss the knife into oblivion.

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All at once, the voice whispered and hissed.

It was not pleasant, in fact, it was pissed.

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It was then that I turned and saw my maker,

Covered in blood.

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He said to me, “Come”

I could not turn away.

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“Pick up the knife, my son

Or you will die another way.”

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This mask was not my maker,

It would be my end.

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I could not go back to what I had become

So I turned and then I ran.

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Days past, maybe weeks.

I felt it in my knees, I began getting weak.

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I had no place to know.

I was lost and on my own.

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A place of rest welcomed me home

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The air, once thin and relieving

grew thick, my skin crawling.

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Searing pain emanated through my skin

I could feel the blood trickle again.

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I looked up and saw him

 He was smiling at me

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I could not believe it.

He had followed me here.

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“There is no escape…

Let go of what you hold dear.”

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I knew this was war.

I let out a blood-curdling scream.

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I must fight.

Oh, how I wish this were a dream.