The Dark Shadow
The Dark Shadow
By Tony DeLorger © 2011
I corrupt myself for the most meagre of concerns.
Like a spectre, a shadow self, tapping on my shoulder,
and whispering sweet chaos of persuasion, it stalks me.
Why do I listen to this dark self,
this fractious facet of deceit?
It is but the remnant memory of unresolve,
the inner conclusions of madness unfulfilled.
I don’t understand its hold; I have reason.
But this dark persuader is the stuff of emotion,
the claws of raw experience, brewed within me.
Why does it run with me, and I am so open to its bitter words?
It should be gone, lost within the thoughts of kind intent,
but instead it looms relentless, searching the cracks of my will.
I pray if I stare this wanton fear down, that it will release me,
and forever burry itself in my past to reside, still.
But it remains like a memory of pain, ever enticing,
reminding me of my imperfections, my weakness.
In the end, I have to use my ears to hear not this malevolent me,
to waste this enemy within, and hone my will to see
only that which elevates me, to see the beauty,
to let go of the antagonism of self realisation.
I pray that I can win.
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