he walked alone in the darkest shadows
constantly wishing for a new ‘morrow
something tangible… more direct
peace of mind in the face of lies
tribulations to survive
 
he walked these shadows begging for noise
begging for light and shiny things
he wasted his life on nothing.
the shadows consumed this man so pure
he had it all - but begged for more
 
one day she came along in the night
her presence so strong
so alluring and magnificent
an angel on blackened wings of blood
she beckoned with a finger’s tug
 
unable to resist - he did go
entranced by her beauty
he succumbed to her power
This dark woman - the witch!
she took him in his weakest hour
 
He begged for more…not mercy
Did she really take him?
Or was it his fancy?
it continued on like this
for far too long - I must admit
 
The emotions in between were pure
the man and his shadows felt so empowered
it was he who created that darkest hour
established grief and harmony where there was none
the thickest hour of night just happened to feel like something – something to carry on
 
Alas one day it was over,
the woman of night was gone
Not a trace left behind.
No closure.
Nothing to recover from.
 
the man gave his all to the dark priestess
he was left with mere pieces
broken shards of haunting memories
a love so strong  it brought him to his knees
from that point on he was left with misery.
 
to all those that may read
this story I tell
a tale of caution.
Wish and want… for all you can.
Do be careful… after all - we’re just mere men.