Pestering Spirit

by Chelsey   Oct 22, 2012


*written for club challenge about a spirit/ghost

Why are you waiting to become one with me?
I can not be possessed with your demonic soul.
You can not enter me with intentions of redeeming
everything you wish to control. My every action.

You follow me, like oxygen I wish to escape, but so
desperately need. You are everywhere, like dust that
I wish to not inhale. Your presence has made me shiver
because your arctic breath finds itself in my ear.

Please, find a new home. My body was not meant to be
ran by the devil. I may cut my wrists at night, but the blood
that seeps out is not an invitation for you to enter it.
It is not a cry for help, its just... an addiction.

Don't forget, you are dead. You are unlovable.
I realize I have the ability to conceive new life,
but remember, you can never be reborn.

    report violation
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Latest Comments

  • 11 years ago

    by Baby Rainbow

    I loved this poem Chels, the images were so vivid in my head of you trying to battle with this evil spirit who is trying to claim you and all that you are. I can imagine all the way he attempts to do this, ie, following you around, the cutting and your blood etc. It is very creepy.

    As for your ending, I thought this was so powerful to end it this way, you are taking back the ultamite control which he can never beat. You have won with this statement no matter what he tries. The idea that you can create new life, nothing really beats that.

    Great job for the challenge, well done.

  • 11 years ago

    by The Poet Behind The Poems

    So this is the poem I voted for lol

    Well done Chels this really stood out for me I love it

  • 11 years ago

    by Tara Kay

    Chelsey, I want to say I love this but it really holds a lot of meaning for me and was difficult to read through teary eyes, but you did a good job on it for the contest and my reasons for not loving it are my own and have nothing to do with the poem itself, for it is finely written and crafted well, and is deep and powerful.

    I may cut my wrists at night, but the blood
    that seeps out is not an invitation for you to enter it.
    It is not a cry for help, its just... an addiction.

    ^^These lines struck me and well, this is probably the deepest, darkest part of the poem for me, and you did a good job with the emotional aspect of it.

    x

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