'it' flows past arches of tainted memories and sticks in the belly as deep as a claw <br />'No, ' I cried to the shadowey keep, hush of silence wove braids in the silent of nights weep. <br />So It was waiting, how cunning to have followed me here, to my shrine a personal haven of personal inspection where no other than a vendetta followed me in the waking. <br />my mind know piles of extinction and i have broth enough to ken <br />a worried response from more than one human around me <br />'Laugh! , ' I twirled <br />Lit cigarette in hand, foul creature abreast my eye -leave now I command <br />But the click glutal sound of impending light- <br />shattered my concept of self imposed disillusion <br />Who was I kidding? <br />It would never leave <br />It has too much fun torturing my mind-mere erosion <br />Are these clovers of pickled reflection <br />and the drumming of It's hand marks the end- <br /> my dream hazed recollection.<br /><br />Candice Renae Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-s-a-dawning/
