A night blanketed by mist
Not like other nights that have past
Tonight is colder and quieter.
A hooded figure roams the empty streets
Door to door collecting what others have thrown away
Heartaches and heart breaks
Even happiness that others neglected
Memories they prefer not to look back to.
The unwanted feelings
Things that have been erased
The hooded figure takes them all
Bury them not in cemeteries
But someplace else.
I loved an assassin
Who shot me dead
Straight through my heart
It pierced right through
He showed no mercy
He didn’t flinch
One bullet was all it took
Outside he appeared to be jolly
Inside he was feeling hollow, empty
He could feel something creeping in his mind
It was dark, cruel, tempting, and unkind
He tried to ward it off, tried to fight it
But on days when he was awake and alone, he contemplated on it
Don’t think him too weak, it was a battle no one could see
It took over him so his life he took a finality
He bowed his head and there himself he hanged
The darkness he could no longer withstand
If my life were taken today,
I wonder what you would say?
Would you tell me you love me?
Or would you say you were just being friendly?
Would you cry and hold me until my last breath?
Will you be sad because of my death?
If I died today, is there anything you’d like to say?
The earth covered me
The blackness consumes me
Eternal resting place, found me
While I lay still beneath the mud and dirt
Back to dust
I move on
And so it is
Hold me now for I feel pain
Hold me closer I feel cold in the rain
I feel I’m slipping, moving towards the end
I will be leaving……
Anytime soon he will take me
Into the dark tunnel we will go
No one knows yet
But I slip further
Eternal takes me
I hope the one’s left behind
Will be ready
my time has passed
it has come at last
this is the end
the road is no more
time to settle the score
no going back
judgment has come
though not yet for some
although it has for me
and so I face for the final time
wondering what will be
I think I’m feeling under the weather today
I don’t feel like myself in any way
Could it be the fact that I’m underground?
Or that all I could make is a muffled sound?
Could it be that this wooden bed is too tight?
Or that I don’t have pillows for the night?
Maybe because I’m not used to the smell
Or maybe because I don’t have a lamp by my side
I still can’t get over the fact that I’m dead
So I’ll keep myself busy
and play tic-tac-toe instead
Thy soul shall find itself alone
‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.
The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.
The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
-Edgar Allan Poe-