Its a storm in the darkness.
A wisp of hatred and fear in one washing the sky.
The black shadows move along the trees escaping into the yard making the grass blow in directions.
Her nightmares crawl away from her fingers showing the night her horror.
Black rain, black clouds, black house.
Its only darkness.
Only whimpers that will never be herd.
She can run but they will always fallow.
She may hide but they will be in every corner.
She will sing a lonely song and only then can she feel safe.
Cover her in blankets of silk and hand her holy water but it will not cleans her mind.
Blow the flute and bang the piano with frantic soft music and she will be set free to the obis.
But do not stop unless you want to feel her pain and be captured in an absents of light.
