The Hole

In the hole,

photo by hungrybison

you’re either a predator or the prey.

A survivor,

or victim.

There is no kindness,

just paranoia,

and agression.

 

Inside the psychopath,

there is humiliation,

a freezing grayness,

despair, denial, anguish.

 

Present is an unending blinding light,

which highlights our fear,

a fear that must be hidden,

as it marks us as prey.

 

There are no men here,

only mad dogs.

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Filed under creative writing, original writing, poem, Short stories and essays, writing

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