Author: Rick Ryckman
The darkness comes with a rush piercing the veil.
I am so weary from the shadows that cling to the night.
The masquerade is feasting at my table.
The demons are drinking from the golden cup.
My sorrows carry me into the dark clouds.
Despair comes with its embrace of inflictions.
There are no more bridges to be crossed.
Only death will survive.
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