The Dark Citadel

I stay inside the dark
     and weary castle keep.
It is lonely.
I know loneliness.
She is my friend.
Outside is cold.
There are many vicious things out there.

The many pronged whip
that beats on you
until you’re a bloody pulp.
The razor that slices souls.
The knife that creeps
     behind you, embedding
          itself in your spine.

But
worst of all
is the the one that comes
in friendly white robe.
Within the folds of cloth
hides a dagger
that longs
for your heart
the dagger wishes
to cut
the vital organ from you
wishes the life pump
to be its own.

That is why
I stay
in my dark citadel.

Published in the Spring ’83 issue of Metanoia, Montgomery High School’s creative writing magazine.