PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I feel cold.

An icy grip on my throat,

the dark embrace of shadow and peril;

a burning.

The very core of my soul is set aflame;

the arms of Empathy drown in fire

and Anger soon perishes as well.

None are spared.

One final breath and then nothing.

All have gone, nothing is left

save a cold shell that still whispers upon the wind's shriek.

Astral-bound invocations to those beyond the Realm;

Silence comes to claim another bound by Darkness.