Author: Rick Ryckman
The onslaught of midnight brings its illusions.
There are too many phantoms rooted in the night.
As lightning scorches through the sky.
The thunderous rain falls in torrential sheets.
The black wind wails like a banshee screaming.
Where gloom descends from the darkness.
I can feel the solitary dream.
Diminishing my sight as sadness surrounds me.
Undaunted afflictions are bleeding.
Despair comes slaughtering the butterflies of time.
The harbinger comes singing the reapers song of sorrow.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|frances perez (188.8.131.52) -- Thursday, December 21 2006, 01:44 am|
this made me very sad......I wish I could do something to ease the pain you must have....even though it is denied
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