Before the dawn.

A tale of a beast from within.

The long hours of the night get darker by the second.

As the setting sun falls into the hills creating dusk,

My joyous soul falls from its pedestal of passion and honor.

Into the darkness I fall, with hopes for the worst,

And into the pit of despair I am laid to rest.

And upon my empty body, as it shall not stay in such a state,

A new soul rises from the flaming pit.

One such a beast as no other finds its way out of the dark,

And into my newly decaying body.

Such a demon as this is not fit for this world,

But fit for the realms of hell where it slumbers.

And in this body that it has manifested itself,

That which is no longer my own,

It awakens with a strengthful roar that sets upon the world,

Leaving the weak and hopeless weeping with fear.

In its wake hope is expelled from the hopeful,

The prideful are dispositioned from their source of pride.

As it stirs from its wake,

The creature dispels all light from it’s presence.

In its stumbled but strengthening walk,

The floorboards crumble and decay underneath its feet,

Creaking with each constant step.

As the beast fumbles through the doorway out into the cool night air,

Its mortal clothes burn away.

Now bare in the pale moonlight,

It cries out to the darkness with a deep guttural roar.

A thick smoke slowly creeps from the darkness toward the creature.

The thick black smoke surrounds the beast until all that can be seen is a pillar of black.

From the black cloud the beast emerges dressed in dark wrappings and battle worn armor.

From its belt, an arsenal of knives and blades hang,

All battle scarred and still smoldering from the hell in which they have been summoned from.

As the moonlight shines upon his head,

The flesh burns away leaving only a black skull.

He walks powerfully out into the street where his steel horse is waiting for him.

The machine, fueled by the hate and fires of hell.

The body, chrome blackened with despair,

And the tires created completely from a black smoke as thick as tar.

As he mounts his steed of death,

The engine gives out a scream as if yearning to be ridden.

The second that the bike is throttled up it is rushed forward into a pace unmatched by all machines of the earth.

As he rides onward, all light around goes out as he passes.

It is not long before his target is reached.

As he dismounts the machine the ground starts to shake.

The target falls and is paralyzed with fear.

The beast strides toward the trembling man,

Reaching for his blade as he walks.

He grabbes the target and plunges the blade through his heart,

All the while chanting to the man for his soul.

As he retracts his blade and the man falls to the ground,

Out of the man’s mouth a dark thin smoke arises.

The beast envelopes the dark soul and mounts his ride.

The creature has now feasted and is hungry for more.

And on it sets to feast on the weak until it has had it’s fill.

When the beast has quenched its lust for soul’s,

It begins running from the coming sun,

Racing towards the home of its mortal body.

As the dawn begins to break,

The creature dismounts its bike which returns back to hell in a blaze of speed and fire.

It’s robes and wears disintegrate into smoke that fades into the fleeing darkness.

The beast gives out a dieing roar as it stumbles back to the bed from which it came,

The face now remade and returned as if it had never been disfigured,

And the body back to its form that it was in before the raging and war-full night.

As the beast lies in the bed returning into its hellish slumber,

My soul returns from the pit,

Rising up into my body ready for the day ahead.

Unaware of the demon within.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A powerful story. I enjoyed your poetry and story. Well written and interesting.
"My soul returns from the pit,
Rising up into my body ready for the day ahead.
Unaware of the demon within."
We will rise and fall many times. Most of us have internal demons. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote