Dark Knight

Nights on those mountains looking down, I wanted to believe that I was not the problem. That my presence would not turn the soul inside out. That I would not be shunned. That I would not be feared. Eternally damned, to live within bodies beyond my choosing.

I look up at a sky which is always dark. I touch the stone beside me which is always cold. This mountain which I’m chained to. A barrenness, a gathering. Those ambiguities, those faint vibrations, that oblique significance.

I am the nightmares.
I am the unsettled.
I am the purplish undergrowth that you not only see
but feel.

I am the green eyes in the distance
that never leave your sight.

I am the black
I am the white
I am the darkness and
I am the light.

I am the inescapable.

How you cannot feel this intensity. One which is so poignant. Should I be the one who is feared? Am I not only a reflection? A reflection of those who sit across from me, of those who I stand behind in the mirror they call eyes.

Why should I think like this? Do they think like me? Could I ever express these feelings? We feast continually at dusk, knowing that the falling sun will rise again. That morning light to reverse the horrors.

The colours within the flames that I often see beauty in. A beauty that hovers close, one that I can never touch. A humiliation which I cannot escape.

Evil as the strongest of words. One which I don’t even know the meaning of. We feast, but for what?

I am not behind any bars, yet why do I feel so trapped?