The Demon's Poison

There is a poison in this house

That drowns us all.

Even the ones whose lips it has never touched.

His bellicose curse spreads slowly,

Turning a dram into a bottle,

And a body into a punching bag.

Ripping every soul to shreads

It feeds its vitcums with lies,

Lies of happiness and relief,

Illusions of love and unity,

And the longer his lies hold, 

The stronger he gets.

He doesn't have a face,

But he wears a mask of animosity.

His name cannot be spoken 

Nor can it be read;

We can only drink it,

Kissing his lips with our melancholy hearts,

Suffocating from his coldness surrounding us all.