Four Gods

Four Gods by Ninva


I awoke from my slumber. I thought nothing, and I saw nothing. Then I was in a space with objects, demons, and solid structures that held important emotion. These walls were gods to my domain for they kept me in this space. I became humbled and moved for a long and cold object and hid under it. In the matter of seconds, the object hugged me; and I screamed nervously fighting the new found demon away from me. Soon I was out in the open with the demons and objects around. The shy demons that remained silent and still, I called objects. The demons that chirped, buzzed, rang or moved by an inch were active demons ready to kill me.

I went to kneel and prayed to the walls. No words came from my mouth - only emotion, and determination that these walls will protect me from the demons within my world. At that moment, the walls opened up to me.

There stood a new god who broke through the walls. He was paled faced and his hair was blond. His attire were made of white robes that wrapped around his figure. With him stood another god, but he had not broken through the walls and opened them up for me. He was black, not like the higher god; and he was the lower god that I respected with great emotion. With that great emotion came great song.

Suddenly the lower god grabbed me, and I cried for the higher god to save me. No sensible word came from mouth, but only racial slurs. The lower god then struck me down. He was violent for my sudden fear had somehow roused his wrath and anger upon, so I began singing prayers showing the lower god my apologies and sorrow with mumbled words.

A sharp small rod was rammed into my right arm, which was pinned behind my back. There was a cry that escaped my lips, and then my eyes closed. I rested for a few minutes until I awoke.

When I awoke a demon had bonded me. He had bonded my arms to my body, and I was my body. As I looked around myself, I saw the gods I’ve seen from before. They were the lower gods: walls. I worshiped them with a groan. I was telling them I was weary from a strange sensation in my stomach, but I was now happy.

At my resting place, I was contempt. No demons came near me. I fell a sleep. Then I continued to pray for many days until I stopped praying and worshiping the walls for my body was weak.

I then made every attempt to remain happy, so I didn’t talk. I slept for most of my days even when my mouth was dry, and the sting in my stomach continued to climax to a point of direr pain.

Finally, at night I was furious at my gods. I swore at them and made the most passionate outburst by violently dashing into the gods. They did not crumble, nor did I for three hours straight. But when I did fall, blood had splattered my white clothes that bond my arms. I panted heavily as I fell, and I cried with all my energy. No tears came; only blood came. It came and came until it stopped, and then I stopped.

...I'm kinda lost.
What's this about? o.o;

Sounds like a thinly veiled metaphor for personal experiences with a liberal sprinklin' o' the word 'demon'. Sounds vaguely creation-story-like, but I'm just not sure what to think about this. I'm confused and scared.
"What do you think o' this, Sirch?"
"I don't rightly know, sir."
In the future, you could try posting similar stories in a non-rhyming poem; it seems to be a more appropriate format.