Word of the Day Challenge #52-Untitled Poem

Come one come all
we have no age restrictions
there are rides here for everyone.
Games to delight the young ones
Tunnel of Love
for all the wicked ones.
Blood red heart
valentine cartoon shape
pierced through with barbed arrow
can you see
the blood oozing from the hole
rather graphic is it not?
Canvas creaks
ropes strain
wind creeps up whistling
clown faces loll
dressed in frowns
back away
turn and run.
Skip through the darkness
heart raging in your chest
panic rising
squeals caught in your throat
do not look back for you shall see
there is no escape
they are gaining on you.
Welcome new comer 
join our dance
the Circus of Horrors 
crowds into your thoughts.
Raging fear
eyes rolling back
thunder cracks
lightening rolls against darkened skies
torrential downpour
peppers your skin
hail the size of golf balls
next you know
the grass arises.
Awaken silver collar around
weak
salivating
smell dark blood
old blood around
canine teeth
deep growl
part of the Circus you have become.
©August 27/19
Picture via Pinterst

Bitter Spectre

**This is a continuation from Sister’s Shade. I did not plan for it to be a continuation but the voices have informed me they have other plans. Again this poem deals with sensitive issues.**

Rage
black tinged gold
crimson blankets silver
molted yellows caress copper
shifting the coins from hand to hand
weight
unconscious of redistributing
subtle stance of defense
noticed not
when their paths did cross.
Sneer
luscious lips
swagger as he walks away
lawyer wearing thousand dollar suit
nary a glance her way.
Stinging
abraded thighs
eyes gloom
stitched to the floor
syllables mono when they came.
No one made the connection.
No one ever would.
Still
her sister’s Shade hissed
coiling around her heart
wrapping talons in her mind
settling over her
cold death sweater
her fury left undone.
Tears collect
unbidden
unfallen
diamonds in the sky
sudden retching
voiceless howl to the moon.
Voices collect
nightmares sinking into her psyche.
Doctors in.
Doctors out.
No privacy.
Words driven into questions
hang in the air
waited upon the words
hanging unspoken on her lips
her desire to speak
driven away by the black angst
her revenge still not done.
Cold shadows gather
huddle in the corners
drool pooling beneath
striking barbs
they await.
©August 27/18
Picture via Pinterest
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