The Black Goat
It raves in the kitchen, it drools through the halls,
It carves a vexed message onto the walls.
It drags its two hooves all through the floor,
It picks at my locks, it thrusts at my door.
It raises its horns as it bursts in my room,
And takes out its tongue like it's time to consume.
But speaks like my mother and reeks like a goat,
An imposing demeanor, my father’s emote.
It mocks my existence and laughs at my pain—
How I failed to save them in every domain.
I remember that night the black goat appeared,
The kitchen, enflamed; their bodies had seared.
I wanted to save them but froze in a panic,
I looked to the ceiling, it smirked from the attic.
It favors a pleasure, a bleat to the moon,
That takes my esteem, a haunting vexed tune.
Inscribed in the walls, it worsens my shame,
”Your parents are dead and you are to blame.“
Posted Jun 3, 2022, 1:10 PM UTC · edited