Nights transformed to months;
the rain to floods. A brooding storm,
bleak and somber.
The darkness of night heaving
its overwhelming presence,
echoes eminating from hollow walls.
As still as the stars,
soundness lies. Pouring itself into
a void of exhaustion.
Invasive.
The star, O how it burns bright,
its luminous, pearlescent beauty glowing,
is smothered as day embraces,
snuffed like a scintillant candle
Under the mask: malevolence.
Malignant, malicious, wicked in
its genuine silhouette.
Questions arise, answers unheard.
The shadow of the morning sky casts over.
Awake.
Only to a past, so profound
yet lost.
Its reoccuring nature befalls
Listen.
It echoes eternally.