Evil Poem by Alexandra Yeboah

They stand face-to-face with evil everyday.
To them, Evil has a name, a voice, a spirit.
He draws them close, caresses their bodies,
kisses the napes of their necks.

Then he leaves them,
brushes them off like a speck of dirt
stippled on his black air jordans.

He taunts and jeers at them,
laughs as he witnesses them
crawling for life,
bleeding profusely,
Dying.

He stands on their front lawn,
watches them spitefully,
accosts them,
controls them,
rapes them.

It doesn’t matter that they never swear,
go to church,
volunteer at the shelter.

Nor that they have plans to go to a concert,
have a chemistry test the next day,
have to wash the dishes,
dream of going to college,
have a husband, a sister,
a mother.

It takes them by their hair,
and laughs to see them groveling,
tears falling,
bodies crushed,
spirit evaporated,
No light to be seen.

The chase is on,
Evil plays his game,
hoping to get the best of them,
to win the fight.
He’ll keep playing until the very end,
toying with the hearts of God’s children.