Poems from Enigmatic Pariah

Poetry is a Mirror, Which Makes Beautiful That Which is Distorted. - Percy Bysshe Shelley
The eyes grew larger at the sightThat could, a grown man, fill with fright.The eyes nearly bulged out their headWhile spying upon the...
You may look at me, But why do you stare? Have I grown two heads, Does this cause you despair? Did some wings just sprout upon my back? Do...
My heart has been hardened against you, Lord. Calcified remains of a once beating organ. My eyes cannot see you, Lord. Cannot see past the...
I died to sleep Perchance to dream To escape this old world With its horrors yet untold.   But, alas, I stirred For a frightful air...
A thought comes to me And I can't help but write it down Lest it troubles my mind Keeps it confined To repetitive, uninterrupted, cycles...

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