My name is Mr. Smith, and I am a writer of goth & horror.

• Doctor Jekyll
• The Pianist’s Daughter
• Tock of the Clock (for Him)

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Doctor Jekyll

As I turn into a monster,

I feel the agony of my

Bones being broken and expanded.

My heart pounds and veins split.

Twist and turn goes my spine and there is

Immense pain.

Burning within, I feel a fire ready to

Burst.

The Devil is unleashed and he

Calls himself: Mr. Hyde.

All of his anger

Appeals to my soul, and it won’t 

Subside. Losing the battle, 

I have become him; we are

One; I was myself, but now 

I am Mr. Hyde.

Drowning inside, he wants to

Play. I feel monstrous. 

I am an infant under his power.

His nocturnal needs become incarnate, and call out to me; I felt pain. 

I feel animosity.

The Pianist’s Daughter

As darkness turns the day, I realize I

Can not pray. 

The tune that was written for you; it is 

Always filled with creatures.

You haunt me like I adore you and

You want something within me.

Like fireflies, which hypnotize, I

Often wonder, “Will she rise?”

The piano plays itself 

As I run my fingers down my face.

I hurt because I want you and I 

Know I can not 

Grasp your charm.

Dawn comes to claim me 

And I feel your Presence; your face and 

Being are 

Beautiful; 

Your’ winged essence’ is of eternity. 

Like a curse, you tear me to pieces.

As the glow of the sun 

Illuminates the sky, 

I cry …

For you. For myself, I scream. 

My sweet angel, 

How far you have

Fallen 

Determining the light. 

I am lost inside, but I try 

To be fine.

How will I ever know

If you’re wanting to consider me? 

It is hard, for you, 

Not to die. 

Rest in peace, my love. 

Our hearts

Forever.

Tock of the Clock (for Him)

Revelations is eternal; the 

Spoken Word of

Jesus Christ is not absurd

I feel it near; His holy tears

What I wanted and sought after were 

Of sin; the beast’s way

He is known well, and He is true; 

He can cleanse your soul or

Take throw one to Hell.

Tock of the clock, a ticking in my

Brain, and harder than

Rock is His 

Hand.

Block the serpent’s tongue; 

Do not

Have fear; 

The bell has rung.

He wills away your pain and

Suffering like time throws man

To the

Wayside

I just want to be purified; I 

Do not want the serpent’s lie.

A cross to bare; His cross to shield.

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