From the deep,dark,tortured recesses of my mind
all manner of bloody,ungodly tales emerge.
My pen flows across paper as though
dipped in warm living blood.
The incessant insanity of my imagination
I cannot easily stifle.
It's darkness prevails over everything
and all light cheery thoughts evaporate
like mist on a warm sunny spring morning.
The power of my terrible words beat
like a drum within my heart.
My soul knows no light only horror,
and my mind is wrapped in the silvery web
of torturous dark thought.
So now I know what it must have been like
to have been named Edgar Allen Poe.
Donavon Scott Vinson
