Does it ever cease, this haunting
The creak of the gate that midnight brings
specters rolling in
never strong enough to keep them at bay
poking their dusty fingers into the recesses of your mind
taunting, leering ghosts of memories
crush them underfoot yet the mist comes creeping through
turn your head towards the light
but it’s just a fading glow
overcome, swept away
carried off in their withering arms
rustling whispers, silent screams
demanding the sacrifice of will
crushed
defeated
puppet on a string
dance to their cacophonous melody
ever dancing, never still
No comments:
Post a Comment