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UNDERWORLD
Limp and swaying,
To the silent tune of whispers, these husks are.
Cold strings of fate,
Bind no soul do they.
Amidst all loud baying,
Cerberus stalks the graves.
In the dense Twilight trance,
Whispers weave their silent song.
Time flies in a Mystical Dance
Guiding hearts to where they belong.
A silver to cross, A fortune to pass.
For each his own, For all's out of reach.
Fear not the darkness Here.
Rather avoid the Light
#mentallyunstable
© pius luanga
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