The eyes,
soul readers,
soul bearers.
They are our true essence.
We can wall ourselves up,
lock others out,
deceive ourselves.
But our eyes,
They give us away,
they bear the truth,
they reveal that
which we wish to hide.
Poe-etic Nightmare
Fear creeps in through the shadows of midnight.
A melodic chill haunts the air.
All hope is abandoned ye who enter here.
Disembodied visions follow your every footfall.
Beasts born of nightmares lurk alongside
spirits tormented in the halls of a grave,
neither bears the key.
A maze with no exit lies in town square,
home to those eternally lost in the caverns of fear.
No hero dare enter this lonely destitude of pain,
for nothing appears to require salvation,
no light to save the ones who wander among the darkness,
those cynical, and weak-minded, sorrowful,
tortured souls who beg and grovel
for some sign of hope which never comes,
where is the light?
Twisted mind numbing memories of the past
flood the stream of conscience,
burdens bear heavy in solitude,
wounds fester quickly,
the shadows of the damned come out to play.
Sinister cynicisms play easily,
audible to even a deaf ear.
Is there nothing,
no one to save us?
And then, just as the last thread of hope
is burned out and begins to smolder fading away,
A splendid dawn breaks over the ridge of the horizon
and pierces the darkness.
naughtydreamsfeelreal
