The perpetual night is a dark jungle of shadows,
Prancing inside you like the ancient black mare
Ready to buck an unsuspecting victim.
She always knows that someone, somewhere, is nearby,
Fallen into the slums of the mind.
The mare turns her head without remorse.
She can sense fear.
Alas! she is a creature of the dark
Ready for the unwary quarry
To blunder carelessly into the endless shadowy pit.
The timid surrender to the ancient black mare
And fall victim to her seductive power.
You learn, all too late, your most valuable lesson:
‘Fortes fortuna adiuval,’ the primeval creature will whisper,
Before turning her back,
Braying with satisfaction.
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