Evil Black Eyes

Happy Saturday, my friends! This is going to be the last post until Monday or Tuesday (depending on if I get the time on Monday or not). Happy memorial day, I hope you enjoy this poem, written on a spur of creation at work while thinking about the t.v. series Supernatural.

Evil Black Eyes

By James O. Cannon

While He looks at Her with those Evil Black Eyes,

So cold and dead and fill of evil lies,

Her blood runs cold like ice in her veins,

But she cannot break free of her Iron chains.

Deep inside of those Evil Black Eyes

A dark, demonic, monster of a soul resides.

She is his prisoner and he drives her insane

For death and blood is to him a game.

No matter how hard she fights those Evil Black Eyes

They keep her prisoner however hard she tries,

Hopelessness threatens her with the icy chains

That bind her to the wall and chill her when it rains.

Days pass as she is watched by those Evil Black Eyes

And hope fades as she hopes that she dies,

But there was a flash of blood-curdling pain

And all leaves behind is the blood, the stain.