Next to me he sat, in my darkest dreams
At a round wooden table with one seat.
I gazed up at his shredded, grotesque face,
And I asked him if he was bad or good.
So blunt and foolish, a child could be–
To grab honesty by the hand and pull.
A devilish grin spread across his face
While fingernails as sharp as blades, they danced
A word to me he did not need to speak,
Deep within my childish heart, I knew.
A confidence fit for the cruelest men
A heavy fear, a weight I could not lift
“Bad,” he said, my heart sank infinitely.