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by Wren Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1398963
A somewhat theatrical take on the utter feeling of isolation within one's self
When you let those wild things out,
Darkness betrayed us all.

Oh nocturne night! How I miss thee,
and those strange deeds,
bleak murmurings lack.
A silken toxic turn of time,
Infused in spring, day and rhyme.

Anon! Who knocked?
Anon! Who stalked and clapped into water
secrets that even water would not tell?
  But not the least, the unseen evil
We cannot see, to survive without Hope.
Hope be bidden to strain the voice of evil
And perpetrate light to the darkness.

Hope that there is hope, who is no ordinary companion

Paid with knowledge,
paid with a price
‘Let death succumb us all,
lest hope finds us first.’

© Copyright 2008 Wren (muted_forest at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1398963-Pandoras-Box