Reality melting,
I saw the man in the dark cloak.
His hair, a dark and devilish plumage, swayed like a smoky serpent.
His eyes, flashing a blood-red luminescence of deep and intense evil, glowed into my soul.
His body, a levitating mass of hatred concealed in a cloak of fiery ashes, immobilized my movements.
The man would not lift his hood from his slithering robes.
And now, at this dreadful time, the odd and maniacal sense of death tingled my spine.
One second, not even that amount of time later, a blinding flash of light occurred.
Sight returning,
Reality evaporating,
The man in the icy smoke cloak now stood beside me.
Actually, he did not stand upon the soot that flowed from his paranormal being.
The man was arisen in barren air, levitating at the height of at least one foot.
He then whispered, not just into my ears.
Into my eyes, ears, body, mind, and soul he uttered to me many omens.
These were omens of the future, past, and present.
Of life and death, of light and dark, and all divisions between.
I then spoke, a strange and bold, yet muddled and mortified mutter, and requested his identity.
The smoke then parted to reveal that the monolithic creature was in fact me.
I spoke again, describing him as monoclonal, a mimic, a copy.
He responded by emitting those soul piercing sonatas of sound.
He now looked reminiscent by a soupcon as he explained how easily copies perish.
He next preternaturally boasted that he was the primordial primogeniture to my soul with veraciousness.
The self-proclaimed prime finally sank into an ocean of boiling blood with solemn verve.
I had an inkling that the man really was me, and that he was gone.
Even though he was gone, I could still smell the iron blood and the deliquescent smoke.
My senses were stimulated with an excruciating rattle that chilled my heart.
The surreptitious sonars spiked my soul once more.
They spoke to curse me to document these occurrences.
They told me that all who learn of this shalt suffer.
The despair filled smoke lingered, filled with unnerving intent.
This ashen darkness then engulfed me.
It bathed and penetrated my being.
He, the one who bathed in boiling blood, was now inside my prophylactic entirety.
I then lost consciousness due to an unbearable subcutaneous pain.
Now that this has happened,
I can sometimes feel a traumatic, vexing second presence within my body.
It lingers and is always there, both sides of me.
I would like to issue a warning,
To those familiar with the light of morning,
For those who fatefully see,
The darker side of me.
It awakens at times, and the man of smoke who is and isn't me,
Shalt awaken from the bleeding seas of eternity,
With ash and smoke and devil eyes,
Of ominous omens that arise.
He is and I am, without true time.
We are now a justice, no different, a crime.
My doppelganger demon takes over, whenever I read this accursed rhyme!
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I wrote this last year (8th grade) for a poetry project that we did for Halloween. The assignment was to make it at least three stanzas. I decided that it would be longer.
I realize that it can be confusing at times. I wrote this last year to be in the sense of a story/poem/miniature epic.
But hey, I hope you like it!
. I'm not really into this style of poetry, so the fact that I liked it is really something! 
