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Deliciously Wicked Writing

Voodoo

Brown hair faded,
Grey then left,
Dark eyes, amber
Beads of hate.
Baggy face twisted,
White with rage.
From gaping mouth,
Dripped poisoned words
As evil thoughts
Inside him stirred.
Around him air
Darkened with spite
As in day
He brought night.
 
Large hands gripped
A  primal doll,
Its body, twigs
With white wrappings
Twisted, tightly bound,
Splintering in death.
Rudely pointing arms
Broke and crushed
In his grasp.
It's bead eyes
Glassy amber flashes.
Green moss hair,
Now dried brown
Flaked and fell.
 
Slyly, he opened,
Stolen sewing box
Of simple pine.
Removed three rusting
Bead headed pins.
Humming, he struck
At dolls' head,
Wished employers dead,
Never gave him
Job he deserved.
Next in eye,
Friends waving goodbye,
Vague lost faces,
In his mind.
 
Took final red
Glass beaded pin.
Pricked finger; bled
Drops of red,
Fell onto white
Of little doll.
Violently, he thrust
Last brown pin
Into dolls' heart,
Cursed his family,
Old and young,
They never gave
Him total love
Or enough money.
 
Lightning struck inside
His dissolving mind,
Amber eyes flashed
As darkness fell,
Clutched his heart,
Beating too fast,
Little doll dropped,
Smashed against floor,
Bald head lolling,
Amber eyes bulging,
Open mouth frozen
In final scream.
As wet red
Halo encircled head.
 
And man and doll
Fell down dead.

by P.J. Reed © 2011

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