Effigy.

Struck by fears from afar,  not from here, over where my eyes are blind, like some candle lit darkened den of demons inhabiting the spaces between brow and brain, vessels of insidiousness like spiders crawling just beneath the surface, forgotten practices damning modern thought leaving death in its wake, lambs of the distraught cower in herds, tremble nervously, catching the smell of unnamed predators stealthily approaching inside the guise of a Shepard, never sensing the greater dangers spawning pain into their heart and soul from foreign fields, now ancient deities familiars thinking irrationalities into my effigy, the root of my existence is sustenance for the mouth of wolves.