Umbra

Dark locusts.
Eating away at the human conscience.
The predator is inside us.
Making the plot too obvious.
These pathetic, little, callow beings.
Will now start believing.
The darkness inside is not what it seems.
You cannot fight your own epiphany.
Simplistic views dilate the pupil within the eye.
Nothing to see. Nothing to read. Nothing passes the sty.
Your children no longer considered ethereal.
Growing legion, eradicated numbers.
Killer is quiet, serial.
These prodigies cried out negligence.
Nothing left; only defenseless.
Souls now considered redundant.
Continue to grow in abundance.
The demons you spawned suffered abortion.
So your mind is raped through extortion.
Hiding in the umbra and dying in the places that are hollow.
We always end up facing our own shadow.