Birth Of The Demon Inside Poem by Wayne McCullough

A solitary wind sweeps past me, I gaze into a personal oblivion.
It chills my flesh but by now it has grown numb anyway,
I can no longer feel for the cold, I no longer pay it much mind.
Water I no longer understand freezes upon my face and is carried by the wind. I wonder in earnest why it was there to begin with.

I look down at my palm and flex my fingers, I watch as the movement causes ripples.
I grimace at the thought of what must happen next, I have been here only once before.
I reach up to my chest and begin to dig talons into flesh, the sound of peeling skin permeates my ears.
As I dig deeper I scream in pain, overwhelming anguish fills not only my body but my soul.

One last piercing scream echoes across the nothingness as I rip it from my own chest once more.
Once the act is done I breath a sigh of relief as one whom has cut out the source or torment would.
I look at it covered in now frozen blood and my face falls blank... I drop it to the ground.
I stare into the swirling nothingness in front of me, the wind still the only sound as it chills me yet still.

I look one last time at the lump that used to be a part of me on the ground before stepping to the edge.
I watch as the ice overtakes it as if swallowing it whole to become a part of the frozen nether.

I close my eyes, and I fall.