Beware, Beware, the Folk so Fair

Battle buried; red beneath
Snow that flurries down on sheath
And sword and shield and endless death
And those of us that still draw breath

A tune, a song, a siren’s trill;
Whoever said words could not kill?
We marched towards war, yet had our fill,
When we crossed over a fairy hill.

In Sheep’s Clothing

“Be wary of devils, little angel;
Watch out for the thorns.
There are always those who will try and show you hell;
Manipulators who will use you for their own needs and nothing more.

Don’t let them take your innocence;
Don’t let them bend your principles.
Be careful of the hypocrites
Who care not for your precious soul!”

But I am not an angel;
I am, for sure, a rose.
There’s a place Down There I know quite well…
And the best manipulation is the one where no one knows.

Dark Side

We rip out the empty page, and we color it in curses
As an expression for our rage — or, we hide it all in verses.
Or maybe in the dead of night, finally we vow a change:
A solar powered flashlight — only, the sun is out of range.
So we fall back into darkness, and it seems forever deeper
As we creep further into this, because maybe it’s a keeper
And we don’t have to hide, if there’s nothing left to see
So let’s pretend that it’s a side, and call it destiny.

The Shadow Man


She trembles beneath her covers
As a shadow crawls out from her wall…
Suddenly, to the day she wakes:
It was just a dream after all.

But the next night it comes again:
She feels as if it’s somehow closer.
Surely she’s going insane
And this thing will just blow over?

A week, and then a month;
These doctors cannot help her.
Not even a shaman, nor a priest:
They cannot give her shelter.

Things begin to happen:
A tragedy that shows up on the news
Will sometimes seem familiar…
And whence came this bruise?

More and more as time goes on
She feels she’s filling up with shadow,
And whatever else is left of her
Feels more and more hollow.

Until one day she wakes up
And it’s her brother’s body that is found.
No one can tell her how he died:
He wasn’t strangled, stabbed, or drowned.

Only that it fits
With a recent string of deaths:
It was like they just gave up the ghost
And simply ceased taking breaths.

But no one would believe it
When she told them it was murder;
No one would believe it
When she said that it was her.

The shadow came again that night,
And there was nothing she could do;
The next morning another death
Was reported on the news.

Here she puts an end to it:
She’ll take her own life.
But the police don’t find her body;
They only find the bloody knife.


I am not the paragon;
This story isn’t mine.
I can pretend it is all day long,
But in the end I still am lying.

I am not the prodigal;
I’m not coming to return.
I come to leech until I’m full,
And then I’ll watch your carcass burn.

I am not the beauty;
The beast is all I know.
People always think they see —
Until they learn what makes my roses grow.

I am not the monster;
I am just a human being.
But I can’t tell any longer
Which is the worse feeling.

The Greater Of Two Evils

You said before that some can’t be saved;
And I think that is true.
You’re so many evil things…
But you’re not the villain here, are you?

I thought that you were.
I thought all I had to do
To be the good guy, was just
To be better than you.

But it was all just a lie;
While all along, I knew the truth:
I felt it boiling underneath,
Even as I veiled my face in ruth.

You never had to be the good guy:
You just had to be better than me.
It turns out I’m the one who can’t be saved,
And you’re the one who gets the redemption story.