Literature
Out of the Fog
A black mist before,
And you kept me
in your ironclad grip
even though there was
nothing to salvage.
I feared freedom would
never arrive, never save
me from that dark pool.
Someone more exalted,
wiser in all aspects
and a far more experienced
innocent than you came
to reach a glowing white
hand of redemption out to me
when I had almost suffocated
under the premise that you
would someday return
to the way you were.
Once out of the mist,
I saw what was concealed
Behind the facade I clung
to for far too long.
A demon, not a clever one,
One that did not know enough
to keep up the charade, but
knew enough to keep me t