The Conjurer Poem by David Musoke

She twists the words of my tongue with her lips
Her words poison my heart with darkness and hate
Images once imaginations in reality are borne
My heart’s cry is feeble and my defiance is as butter facing a knife
Death is my only salvation from this conjurer of evil
But my spirit yearns for life, hope and at times love
To the dim hope of joy I hinge my last stand
Will I survive the days of the evil one?

Sounds of blades against sheaths as I ready for war
No war cries are heard in the lands
But she knows the days of light approach though darkness lingers
My father today I become my worst enemy
I become the very thing I despise the most
Darkness engulfs my being as I approach her lair
Today I change; today I become darkness so that I may spread light
She mocks me as I approach, the day of the evil one I will survive