Realm of the shadows trying to reclaim their birthright,
They come alive at night.
They whisper to me while I write,
Telling me to abandon the daylight.
From the floor, they come,
Through walls, they walk, leaving me numb,
And with a deep sited question “Would I become?
Or would I become just another faded strum?”
Every night fighting their spell,
Left with every sense diluted just to dwell,
“Surly heaven can wait, but what about hell.”
Such a thought that is foreign to me, I can tell.
Every single one of their blows can be felt deep in my head,
I go to bed, but my senses make me feel closer to the dead,
Shadows become the new threat,
Felt much better when the wounds bled.
Copyright © 2017 Manuel Osornio-emotionsoflife2016
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