Wings glinting in the darkness, clouded

Skies, the mist is webbed, the moon is

Shrouded, dipped in insanity, I love the

Irony of your fear of the dark and not

What lurks within.


The demons that haunt the silver hollows,

Deep within your soul where nothing external

Follows, a path into sin and all of

What lurks within.


The drunken dance of moths, a slow decay,

Nothing works, the scars will always

Stay, and we yell above the din, the screams of

Whatever lurks within.



The End

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