The Rogue

Photo by Kim Dowson

The stunted growth of the sly one.

With closeted tales and fragile truths.

An exiled self, born of imitation.

Nefarious concoctions to feed off the faithful.

With a gluttonous appetite of egoistic rule.

A deviant, serving of no one.

The unworthy sleep here at the door.

While the heavy weep and crawl the floor.

Betrayed of promise and aid once more.

Under foot their bones snap and splinter.

No truer a rogue could be devoid of distinction.

A truculent infantile of the most horrendous.

Impeded by apathy and hostile.

Reclamation

Photo by Kim Dowson

Steady the course.

Through crushed green and dirt I creep.

Searching for a way in.

Faithful to my true.

It calls me back with hardly a notice.

Quick to fill and swallow.

I’m merciless.

Stealing all that lies before me.

Banishing it to the darkness.

My rage grows.

Callously wasting earth as I hasten.

Nothing can stop me.

Fate called me here.

To reclaim a home that once was.

A home that is to be once again.

Replenished.