Poems are considered
A gateway into the soul
He reads my poems
My thoughts and silly fancies
And he thinks he knows me
He thinks he has seen my soul.

He sees my poem
As a tale of hope
From one who lost her hope
My poems touch him.
He thinks I have an ability to love
And be happy
He is fooled by my poem.

My poem shows him my soul
But as it was
Not as it is.
It used to be an empty place
Waiting to be filled.
Now, it has been filled.

My soul is filled
With darkness
The consuming, powerful darkness
Of despair
Of death.
It has become an evil, 
Lonely place.
No longer empty
Waiting to be filled
With happiness and love
It has been filled.

He reads my poems
And thinks me a sweet, innocent girl
I am almost ashamed 
To decieve him
But the part of me that feels shame
Was consumed long ago
To feed the ever growing darkness.

Once upon a time
I was as he sees me
But no longer.
Once upon a time
I would have been thrilled 
That he could see me as i was
But no longer.

I don't care about anything
Least of all, how he sees me.
My once empty soul
Now filled, no longer cares
As I lie, dead inside
Darkness calls.......

Despair