***I wrote this poem to be spoken word (I'm reading it at a poetry slam)***
Out there
In the World,
The Darkness is closing in.
We know of it,
But we do not know it.
Out there,
Beyond our carefully constructed walls,
There are little ones crying.
They call out to us,
And we pretend to hear,
But we do not.
Out there,
In that place,
They cry out to anyone,
But we do not listen,
For they are the Others,
The Not-Us.
And we do not help.
Out there,
In the Not-Here,
The pain goes on and on,
Unceasing and inescapable.
It is the pain of the Not-Heard.
Now, please, tell me this:
"Why did God feel the need to create a Hell?
It seems so redundant."*
*The part in quotes is an excerpt from The Curse of the Wendigo, by Rick Yancey
