Like a creeping blanket of mist it submerges,
suffocating willpower without warning.
Why does he follow in relentless silence?
Like the angel of death she flies in, gripping hold
feather light on shoulders, taunting whispers.
Why does she always come breathing poison?
Like cast iron permafrost it fractures mind,
destroying tender shoots, crushing its path.
Why was there no warning, to turn the light on?
(Featured in http://thepoetrytree.wordpress.com/ – 2nd Edition – September 2011)