The Presence of Evil.

"Here it comes, its behind you, you think, do you really know whats going on, maybe, as you feel this breath taking dark powered bond." Can you feel it, can you see the swift darkness as it passes, Can your hear the footsteps go by, from darkness to floor as it mashes, You think you see something with a glimpse, but every time you look back, There appears to be nothing there and your mind feels like it is losing track, Of focus or concentration upon what is presently occurring in your momentarily confused life, You scarcely sense something as it accelerates in speed and moves by, You try to ignore it, but deep down inside, Sitting there and meditating if whatever is in your presence can make you die, It feels cold and an evil dark filled blanket surrounds your path, You try to push it away with your entire wrath, You hear this darkening death sounding words in your head, And they make you prefer to be dead, As they say, “You are nothing but a parasite, your essence is less important than that of a weasel.” You feel pathetic, alone, unwanted, and cold, under the presence of evil.