Muddy waters are pure
beneath the mud.

Where do I put the pieces of me
that I do not wish to see?
Where do I put the pieces of others
that cut my gentle flesh
and baste me in the black oil
of smiles and lies?
Are we not all perfect, here?
Are we not all, nice?
Tied in the sweetest bows
of comfort and light
are the stories we tell.
Tied by the jagged boundaries
of our own
raging
humanity.
Open your eyes.
It is time
to wake
up.
Deep in the guts of humanity
lies a secret.
The secret of the dark.
Peeking through the curtain, always.
A demon
hiding
within.
The world sees an angel:
‘Welcome, lovely one. We choose you.’
Meanwhile,
the demon cackles on.