Behind closed door,
The angel is born.
The laughter\'s soar,
The whole night \'til dawn.
They see him as saint,
Wearing a halo over his head.
The angelic face is only a tint,
Also the fetal position when he\'s in bed.
But when he\'s under the Sun,
Or under the moon and the stars.
The sprouting of his horn is just begun,
And the tail that creates scars.
His eyes are glaring with so much rage,
He looks older than his real age.
He\'s like a hungry Lion that have escapes from the cage,
Ready to cause an extensive damage.
His Mom really thinks it\'s his husband blood,
That runs through his veins,
She doesn\'t know he\'s not a blessing from God.
It\'s the Incubus who\'s always present in her dreams.
His Mom offer him to the Lord in heaven,
To become one of the church priest someday.
She poured her heart to him,
And he\'s getting well day after day.
#poetrystory #poetry #incubus #shortstory #poem