Evil is
Not the devil
Burning in red
Tracing ashes, breathing fumes
Crawling in nightmares
Sneaking in the shadows
Cast by your lamp.
Evil is
Not the hand that will pull a trigger on an innocent
Not the drunk driver that will tear you to pieces
While you cross the street.
Evil is
Not the son that will forge the will
Of an estranged father.
Evil is
Not the lover that will assault
His cheating lover’s other lover.
Evil is
Inside my palm
Inside your collar bone
Inside the red blood cells
Inside the thought sheltered by accommodating mind.
Evil is
Not a momentous spark. It is everyday ritual
Like throwing the litter
Washing your hands
Little drops that build up giants.
Evil is
Not to have a cause when you can have a cause
Not to speak up when you can speak up
Not to open your eyes when your eyes beg to open them up
Not to say a word when the words invade your lips
Not to dream when the dreams wildly possess your thoughts.
Evil is
A mirror image of what a so called ‘good’ may be
Might have been
Could have been
Should have been
Must have been
If it were not failed
If it were done
On time.
Evil exists
Only if its mirror image sleeps
A thousand years long
Sleep of appeasement.