Shadows

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.