Concrete Halls

In bleak and dreary concrete halls,

Made to grace us with no walls,

Upon the roof, beasts of metal race,

Not weak or weary, nor meant for mortal fate.

A great black drape upon us falls,

And warmth of light stays not for long;

A storming swarm of snow takes form,

And pelts our thin white paper walls.

Not far, a slim black figure waits,

Cloaked in tattered cloth of fate.

I sit and shiver, just a sliver;

Shades there quiver, cling to its cape.

It seems to some a dreadful thing:

He takes us, leaves into his rake;

But no sadder, mind scattered with hope,

Aching and fading, I accept escape.