Hatred

Soundless drifter,

Praying on innocent hearts,

Like a lioness stalks her pray,

Ripping aspirations in two,

Like demons stealing the breath

From newborn babes;

Drawing strength from misery,

As it aimlessly wanders through the

dark realms of purgatory

we keep hidden in the uncertain regions

of our twisted souls.

This is the endless toil

of the soundless drifter,

Neither living nor dead,

Inconspicuously born

Of men’s lust, betrayal and greed

Devouring love, morality,

and the will to live,

As it Grips its icy fingers around our necks,

Stifling our cries to heaven,

Engulfing us in an eternal suffering

we create for ourselves.

This is the toil,

of the soundless drifter,

Weaving in and out of

time and space,

Slipping through the black holes

and faint tares

in the fabric of our inner being;

This is its power;

inhabiting the thread

of destiny winding through

our consciousness,

Maliciously twisting

truth to fallacy,

In its eternal quest

to drag untainted spirits,

to the dark fields of misery,

residing within the unexplored passages

of our subconscious minds.