Only Human

by herespang

There are moments

When goodness turns into malice

And fair intent sours.

During these brief moments,

I am

On occasions,

Crazed, eyes blood shot

On Thirst,

Bent on achieving not some,

But grudgingly

All the satisfactions.


So I turn to the Dark,

To the face of damnation.

And I see in the sinister

A terrible,



From which arises

The careless power

To quench my crooked needs—


To be the Golden Apple

Atop the highest pinnacle—

Divine, poisonous,

Rotten, and ageless;

Desired by all

And fatal—


Thus, I take a sip

From the deadly well.

And Soon,

I am overcome

By a restless adrenaline

Immense to the point of



Suddenly, it is revealed to me

Just what a thrill it can be

To put on the Devil’s facade

And play the laughing wicked.


I decide to take to the slaughter,

And Oh!

How are they so belittled!

As if a gentle “tap,”

And they are torn apart!




I move closer—


Seeing this lot,

These lambs to be butchered,

Standing and grazing there—

Mostly unwary;

Some a nuisance;

Some even vicious.




Regardless of the little good

And much foolishness I see,

They are all familiar,


More or less

Like me—

Undeniably human, limited,

And only so vile.


Then how could I strike down

The the ruthless sword

Knowing that I

Too am

Helplessly mortal

And bound to the ground?