“Round midnight...

I quietly turn over the saint's ashes...

Here inside my wicked hourglass.

And here I patiently wait...

For anyone to give me such reprieve.”

•

“Time serves no measure or countermeasure here...

Inside the deathly hallows of the boneyard.

But the silence before the nightly howling of the wolves...

Serves me a potent reminder of many blood moons past.

Where even the courageous...

Show their true fear...

When ghosts appear...

And in an instant...

Just slowly...

Before these dark brown eyes...

Fade away.”

•

“So...

What am I to you?

What am I to the rest of society?

A social disgrace?

A novice dark poet?

A subliminal outcast?

Am I the nightmare...

That was...