“Thorns Of Insanity”, “Madness”. “Tango with the Darkness” , “Writing on the Walls”

“Thorns of Insanity”

Slowly, but surely, my sweet insanity shall consume me as silky shreds of red ribbon twirl under the light of the full moon.

The death gods surround me; encircle me; entrap me.

They all watched me expectantly, toothy grins further defacing their leathery, decaying lips.

The sky became the great seas as the oceans became the boundless sky.

The demons plunged me into the deep blue ocean, which had become the sky, and I fell into infinity.

With the kiss of the harpies, I had wings and could fly.

Through the blue depths of the sea, which had become the sky, I soared.

In the sky which had become the sea, a naiad bestowed upon me a hydra’s fang, and I was able to breathe in that domain of enigmas.

Wretched, bloody demons.

Where hath the earth gone? Eons, I felt, passed as I explored the dark and frightening depths of the sky.

I heard a voice I never knew, calling to me; searching for me; beckoning me.

Ah. Aphrodite. So perfect and alluring. So ready to steal my soul if I made love to her.

But a gorgon ripped me from her clutches and gazed deeply into the very depths of my being with those golden, serpentine eyes, nearly petrifying me to the core.

Perseus, my savior, beheaded the vile creature before she could consume me, but he raised his sword and slashed my throat as well.

I fell into darkness, but when I opened my eyes, I found myself in a meadow of moonflowers, my skin torn to ribbons.

Under the light of the moon the death gods snickered, twisted expressions shifting the putrid flesh of their faces into something more horrific.

And then they were upon me.

They tore the flesh from my bones and took it for themselves. They tore my muscles apart and picked me to pieces greedily. They left nothing.

Wretched demons.

Again the darkness found me, and in the abyss, a siren’s song enveloped me.

I understood why men at sea fell prey to them, but a satyr’s flute whistled loudly, shattering the man-eaters’ bewitching spell.

I awoke in the meadow only to find it aflame, centaurs and a single minotaur waging a bloody battle.

Bright fire encircled me and suffocated me.

Arrows rained and I could not escape. Death by flame or impalement?

The arrows answered my inquiry for me.

By now the dark nothingness and I were great companions, and as I surfaced again, I found myself at the mercy of a hellhound.


The infernal mutt bellowed in a heart stopping howl, and I knew with certainty in that instant, that within this insanity, I would live to endure this madness for eternity.

I would wilt like a wild rose, thorns forever perforating my carcass as I lived through this torment until the end of time—the end of mankind.

I would shrivel up, but I knew I’d remain in a stasis, never to be mercifully crushed and whisked away by the wind.

Wretched demons.


Bow thy head in reverence and listen to the hymn of the dead.
Part thy lips and let the sweet silver-winged butterflies that fly about in.
Cut thy throat to hear the screams of the departed.
Let thy insanity drive thee.
Let thy madness have thee.
Let thy temptation consume thee.
God isn’t watching.

“Tango with the Darkness”

The darkness inside me is calling,
is screeching with madness and ecstasy.

It beckons and seduces me with
bloody fingernails and lips of poison.

It smiles sweetly with teeth of white,
though its black eyes are cold.

The darkness inside me wishes to feed on the warmth in my heart—
it wants to drink the sweet nectar of love and leave my pulse withered.

Slowly it strips away pieces of my soul,
tearing and ripping gently so as not to alarm me.

The darkness—that madness and insanity which giggles indulgently from the depths within—
whispers wonderful promises of protection from those who seek my decay.

It entices me to lie languidly with
it in the realms of my mind.

There in those worlds that exist between the woven strands of fantasy and reality
it wishes to trap me with my trembling hands and quick, uncertain breaths.

As much as the darkness is a part of me since it crept in when my heart was torn asunder,
it cannot trap me within the dimensions of my mind.

Once upon a time the hatred drove me, became me when I myself was too weak to go on living—
but no longer is that the case.

Once it was let in it never left—
that darker side on me with the bloody hands, black eyes, and beguiling smile;

The side that giggles in a straitjacket within a cushioned room,
finding the men with the needles hilarious.

There in the abysmal depths does it beckon and call but never do I pay it heed.
I am stronger and do not need that darker side of me.

But still I hear her calling… Even now.


“Writing on the Walls”

Oh what it is to be a walking contradiction;
to possess so many musings that scream hypocrisy—
what does it mean to be certain?

Ideas are dangerous.

The only time you are whole
is when you stand with your other self
at a mirror.

You speak legions with your eyes and the set of your mouth;
your posture and the enthusiasm of your breaths;
the fervor of your heart, and the quickness of your step.

Pursue your happiness and break away from your broken and world.
Do what makes you happy and bring the pieces together in a beautiful paradigm.

You speak for yourself, but your actions define you—
are you truly the person you say to be?

Ponder this and let us see.

Understand who you are and be free.

Chandanie Hiralal, Age 16, Grade 12, Robert H Goddard High School for Communication Arts, Silver Key

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