The Inside Out

There once was a boy with a wide, gleaming grin

who flitted through town like he knew something.

He skipped over puddles and hopped over cracks

and stared into souls, sending shudders down backs.

.

Typical golden hair, with an added gleaming glow

and icy, hot eyes – he's just made for a show.

The young ladies swooned as he floated on by,

the older ladies, too, could not deny

his elegant beauty, his radiant company;

charming, mysterious and perfectly lovely.

.

With no past to haunt, no skeletons to hide

it seemed that Lady Luck must be on his side.

.

No one ever stepped close enough to observe

the lines about his eyes that worked to preserve

a life once lived, cast in a blanket of demise,

burnt now to ashes and leaving him to rise.

He never would admit what had once been;

the things he had done, the things he had seen.

Cold and corrupted behind that shining glow

he was a cracked oil lamp, sparking perilous inferno.

.

That too-perfect grin was ever the focus

so much so that no one ever stopped to notice

the fate of those who got lost in his eyes,

how their story always ended with bloodcurdling cries.

.

Dragged them willingly, tethered by their soul,

led them away while they assumed they were whole.

Mistaken caresses, insincere sweet nothings said –

impossible to decipher what lies ahead.

Sliced a string of ruby across their exposed neck,

slicing at his own core; an unrecognisable wreck.

Brushed it off with a swipe of a blade –

a once pretty maiden, a tragedy now made.

.

Stuck in this rut, one crime on repeat.

To him every moment was now bittersweet;

an evil crime, more damage to be done,

yet a sweet relief for the devil he'd become.

Never moving on but never staying long,

never choosing right but never feeling wrong.