Inside my twisted mind.

Blood soaked bats.

Two headed cats.

Everything Confined,

inside my twisted mind.

Hatchets hanging on the walls.

On the floor, cracked heads of dolls.

There's nothing sane.

Inside my mental brain.

Children hanging from the trees.

Prisoners shifting with unease.

There is only red.

Inside my wicked head.

Body parts on the dinner menu.

Lots of torture to continue.

There's never anything dull.

Inside my sinister skull,

As I'll always sit and ponder,

What next to conjure,

inside my twisted mind.

Reviews

[Klo Willow]

A sort of playful essence takes the dark poem. The flow is deftly executed with a simplistic rhyming pattern, and succeeds to clearly convey each image.

There's never anything dull.
Inside my sinister skull,
As I'll always sit and ponder,
What next to conjure,
inside my twisted mind.

This stanza is the strongest. It concludes the flow into a firm ending that leaves the reader with a satisfied ending. The diction choice of "conjure" and "skull" help to deliver the solid, final tone.

There are lapses that denote a writing style that hasn't quite been fleshed out. The staggered syllable pace provides an unpredictable charm; however, the frequency of it takes away from the final product.

Overall, a good piece.