Nightchild
by K. Marcotte
In tattered rags i lay,
Bneath the moonless sky.
With but a few stars,
struggling to pierce the ghostly clouds,
with its shimmering light.
Blankly staring into,
a mass of emptiness,
a vast sea of darkened nothingness,
with an occasional passing shadow,
gently flowing in its tide.
Alone and cold,
a sigh of despair,
wanting, hoping, wishing to be heard,
as i call so desperately.
In thought,my words remain,
a timeless echo of my gastly dreams.
Come to me sweet child, so evil.
Embrace me with you're deathly kiss,
and all you're darkened passion,
that i may suffer eternal bliss.
Hear me wail my song of sorrow,
as the notes profusely rise,
almost past my trembling lips,
a muttered chant is taking flight.
Forever have i beckoned him,
this kindred dream of mine.
By day a gentle mourning, an orchestra of pain by night.
I live to reach my destined fate,
an undying love for a deathly state.
