A fevered whisper floats
Upon wind torn skies.
A screaming in my hollow
Mind. Shredded souls drown
In crimson bladed laughter,
And so it starts—low and slow—
The horrid shrieks of mirth
Rise and take wing—
Dragging your nightmares
Into reality. Hide away
As well you might, yet
It shall be over by twilight.
True it is that night
Is darkest before dawn—
But the sun has died
In your eyes. Stars glitter
Like spider’s guise, they
Show you your demise.
SirynECrow Community Member 
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