Confides Poem by Trevor Thompson

The confides of my mind,
Is a sick and lonely place,
All those who would dare enter,
Leave no leaving trace,
Anyone who has approached it,
Has never read the signs,
The warnings of terror soaked,
In the blood of the once divine,
And though many want to heal it,
To plant the seeds of hope,
The seeds are all rejected,
Because the soil cannot cope,
And the planter leaves rejected,
Hanging their head down low,
They make their way to exit,
But the demons won’t let them go,
They grasp for the planter’s soul,
Stopping their departure,
And they bear a wound forever,
A scar from the arrow’s archer,
But the demons are deceiving,
And lure in their new prey,
And as the prey draws nearer,
I try to yell and say,
“Turn back while you’re still happy”,
“Turn back while you’re still alive”,
“You’re only going to feed them”,
“And increase their hateful hive”,
But the prey always has hope,
That they may change my soul,
They continue to plant seeds,
To reach the impossible goal,
Take this as a warning,
The soil has been salted,
And no plant will grow here,
The life has all been halted.