A night not filled with moonlight,
shadows gather on the wall,
painting themselves into demons
who shriek with insanity’s call.
No wind to give the willows a dance.
The haunted shriek of banshees instead.
Feral calls of desperate demons dancing to
the silent tune of despair within the head.
No promise of a sunrise to fill the sky
at last, with beautiful, cleansing light.
Daylight shivers and slips into the gloom,
its fingers grasp the world’s edge of night.
No owl calls out his question to the dawn.
No fairies dust the grass with morning dew.
There is a silent, hollow expectation as you
turn and wait for the demons come for you. |
