The Mothman Cometh

the Mothman Cometh in dead of night who knows his pain who knows his plight left unchecked in their faulty haste born in pools of chemicals and waste a slip of nature he roams the skies with wings of a condor and red blazing eyes it is said he had vanished when the bridge came down but I believe he remains at the outskirts of town I have been to Point Pleasant and his presence I feel on the river on the streets in the steps of John Keel

Deckard

I began writing poetry when I was a teenager and it truly saved me from a destructive path. 'Time Heals' will be on my grave stone'. I have 3 incredible kids who are the greatest gifts that God has given me. If I have advice to give to aspiring...

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