The doors are veiled in darkness
not welcoming or inviting but the opposite.
The rooms are similar, with a forbearing sense of gloom
overshadowing all other possible
feelings of joy.
Small traces of
solace peek through the dread.
I watch aghast
as the unyielding despair takes
its toll. Slowly it permeates through
shadows and
darkness making itself at home.
It is in the room, darkness grows
and thrives, spreading
slowly through the open expanse.
All is undisturbed. Stillness
reaps the entirety of my mind.
The time has come. It is
twilight, with Death
its ghastly bearer.
My mind, used to be my own
now it belongs to Death, held firm in
his inflexible grasp,
never capable of breaking free.
I am constrained
to oblige to
be the eternal prisoner of Death.
Throughout all my life
I cling to hope, but
the shadows have precedent
claimed me. Death grows, day is gone
there is no more hope
to save me from the doom that comes from
being a Shadow's own.
Joy peeks around
corners frightened,
hiding away from the sadness
I have taken into myself and
become. It grieves my slow
descent to Death. I am
eternally one with
the shadows.
