The Evil Within

Thu, 03/05/2015 - 23:58 -- CClark5

I am a proud, deceitful imp

A wicked dragon who lurks in the shadows

A fiery demon chasing after the innocent

A shameful smudge on crystalline papers

 

My skin shines green with envy

My jaw juts out in stubbornness

My tail coils with spite

My eyes flash a demon's gold

 

My fangs are stained in scarlet red

My tongue is laced with poison

My clawed hands drip with my own blood

My wings are tattered by my own fire

 

Shiny scales line my chest

A rainbow to hide the darkness beneath

I build my walls, but they all clatter

As my own hands tear them apart

 

What makes a human better than the rest?

We hide behind masks we have painted

If I am to be as human as you

Would I still be as sinful and wicked?

 

So I must be a monster, for deep within

Beneath my walls and scales and emerald skin

The root of my wickedness, the cause of my faults

There lies a pitch-black, completely human heart

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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