Creeping Things
Creeping Things
You creeping things,
Writhing and slinking
From beneath some swamped scree,
Infesting hallowed gallery,
And covering the shames of all like you -
The darkness is failing.
No longer are your deeds clouded and veiled;
Dawn has come.
It is too late to hide back beneath the fetid rubble,
You chose to enter the public frame,
Thinking you could confuse and obscure
As your lies bent back upon themselves,
Now the knots they tie bind you to your fate.
Still you seek the spotlight,
Though it mean you need confess 1, 2, 7 sins,
In hopes that the 8th, 9th, 20th
remain undiscovered,
Or at least shrouded until they are either forgotten,
Or settled in a back room sour with unclean pact.
Know this:
Behind you was ever a trail of slime,
Old yes, cold surely, but not gone,
Not gone.
The miseries you have caused,
The monies you have collected,
Or simply stolen outright,
The broken promises,
The bridges burned,
And the lives ruined call out,
And will be answered,
And you will answer for these things.
You chose to slither out
From the debris you used to inhabit,
To gorge on innocence,
Thinking that empathy and the capacity to care
Equates to weakness.
That capacity also has room for vengeance,
And for the justice that now meets you.
Justice is being served to you,
And you are most welcome to it.
Cliff Lake 5/10/2023
Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023
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