Possessed
Trapped in a scar not fully healed
The orphaned spirit silently lingers.
Its desire to cross over sealed
By Reaper's callous forgotten fingers.
It struggles to set itself free
But soon succumbs to its eternal fate.
Haunter of mortals it shall be
A cold peddler of torment’s pain and hate.
From one sad soul to another
Driven onward by the evil results,
There are many souls to smother
By exposing and picking at their faults.
Relentless in its evil quest,
Its work is on display everywhere.
It strives to be the very best,
And the whole world becomes its evil lair.
From the lost asylum patrons
To the loud blubbering subway preachers
To depressed and jilted matrons
And under-appreciated teachers.
It dabbles wherever it can.
Not even one social class is immune.
It can lay waste to any man,
And very seldom goes away too soon.
If you meet up with it some day,
Look squarely into its cold piercing eyes.
Heed not a thing it has to say.
And you will surely take it by surprise.
If it wins, best of luck to you,
And try to keep it from taking you far.
But please whatever you may do,
Don’t let it trap you in an unhealed scar.
