Sinister Sonata

Tiny red man sits and listens

On the back of your shoulders,

Craving the movable of boulders.

He grabs your hair and pulls you down,

Into a deep burrow of

Negatives,

You’ll drown.

Hanging on a few strings of hair

He laughs and howls,

Screeches into the thin air.

You wiggle your skull, the Devil falls,

Gasping for air, towards the pit

That calls.

You threw him on his ground

Where he stomps,

Just as a little child,

He whomps.

Sara Szarka
Sara Szarka
Devoted to creating content daily using writing as a tool of self-expression Sara had been fond of writing from a very young age. Embedded in twisted, psychological and philosophical subjects, promoting the abstract allows her to find deep teachings in metaphorical creations. Currently living in Hungary, Europe she thrives for expanding her possibilities. Many years have been spent with travelled around the world and just recently she has settled down with the greatest partner in the world. Sara is a great fan of fantasy, sci-fi and anything that comes with abstractness. Her daily routine consist of practicing mindfulness, and daydreaming of a workplace where she can unleash the chains from creativity.
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Larry Tyler

Strong Ink and amazing Imagery. I love this.

Anonymous
Anonymous

Thank you very much Larry, it is much appreciated. Cheers, Sara

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