Shadows
Invading shadows from the dark side.
Lightless mimics of humanity.
The unseen presence from the blindside.
Is it real or am I losing my sanity?
These scourges of blackness
trudge through my bedroom
every night of my madness
as if it’s a pathway to their tomb.
From the darkened isles of oblivion
to their cold and lonely crypt
every night, these stygian pawns
form a parade of the nondescript.
Am I truly insane or is my imagination
running away from my reality?
Is this just a mental fixation
or an omen of my finality?
I sense their cold presence passing by
one by one dragging themselves to hell.
Indistinct forms of darkness shuttle by
each a monster loathing its last farewell.
Is this a consequence
of my long-forgotten loneliness
or is each seeker of its sarcophagus
a warning against my wantonness?
The last bit of the parade nears, and I’m amazed
“Oh, these are lovers of mine, I recognize Marilyn”
They drag along slowly, weighted by sins of yesterdays
Compelled to follow, I begin to feel lightless and thin.