In the lights of stars there lives a shadow, wicked as fox. It lives unchallenged, fareless, and unwelcome. It grows, feasts on the flash of pain. With those big black eyes, ah I remember those eyes, he watches the sky, ruining hope and joy. Stubborn and selfish and careless and cunning he is. Death prevails over the lands and clouds turn red. Laughs, louder as thunder, kills every dream and makes it a nightmare. Men are men perhaps. Deep down on the lowest valleys of lowest dungeons there somehow crepts darkness into their hearts. Blood no more thaws their hearts and they become monsters. Creepy howls, blood shedding jaw and darkest claws grab their servants and do their dirty work. Nothing stays beautiful anymore and yet, no more roses grows on lands of men. Flowers hide in the shades of leaves and trees turn from green to golden. Roots dig deep and yet life appears lifeless. When the very structure of nature shekels and rain drops are no more. Rainbows no more appear, moon covers itself into shame and darkest nights start. Bonds of fellowships break and there is no last left. Doors no more give sounds of a pleasant guest and cents of hater sons breaks. Fishes no more swim, eyes no more dream and trees bend. Ever sleeping forces awake and hearts of men get easily corrupted. When each soul belongs to the shadows. Agents of doom rise and takes over what never belonged to them. When animals no more dance in woods and immortals become powerless. Then there is nothing left but fear and death and tears and sorrows. Then u stop believing when they laugh at u and tease u saying do u fear death sire?
