The Dark Soul

Dead of the night,
Fingers crossed and heart thumping against my chest,
Seconds turn into minutes,
1, 2,...silence.
Then suddenly I heard a wail,
Like someone in agony,
Exhilarating pain,
And then continuous screams,
Silence.

Three minutes thereafter,
There is echoing of pounding footsteps,
Shattering of glasses in the background.
Hallucinations? Yes. No. Maybe.
Into the room of sad,
There was darkness, and knives, and blood,
There was sweat and stained sheets,
An aroma of lucifer hanged around,
And a cold body at my feet.

They finally came after six days,
Mama was wrapped in a white cloth,
Her neck adorned in an expensive collar.
They called her sweet names,
Praised the days of her lifetime,
Men of the clergy bowed their heads in pretence,
I saw guilt all over their faces,
I saw something no one else saw,
I saw blood.

I stood by as the casket was lowered,
In my mind the spirit still lurked,
I hoped the body would fall out and let the casket be,
Watched as grandma wailed in despair,
As people drowned their faces in tears.
I watched and saw blood,
I laughed when people cried,
I saw beyond the horizon.

Fourteen weeks now,
Truth finally got hold of me,
Probably she's dead and gone,
Strugglling to breath in between the thick layers of sand.
And I am here all alone,
A dark soul that is free to roam.
Darkness, doorbells and sledgehammers.
Queen of sad.

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