Midnight and the Shadows.

Midnight drips down from the clouds the sky, infected by her despair turns to ash, and the grand Concords of heaven mourn burning the world with their bitter tears, tears of acid. Brine from the breeze sticks silver in the night glittering with the sand stuck in it, and the face of midnight sets 12 eyes on the faces of the fallen. Twisted in their misery of disgrace torment is the deep set lines on their faces, ageless to times touch and the acid drips in time with midnight much to mortal displeasure. The snowfall turns skin to porcelain becoming ash in the mouths of the innocent setting them apart from the world of sinners Midnight marks them as hers claiming the purest, leaving the world to suffer their sins. As night sets his hands in, the innocent: turn their wrists skyward turn the bottle upside down and line up the pills just in time for the tolls of midnight to echo into the darkness. Once, twice and the wrists are sliced seventh, eighth another drink take eleventh, twelfth, no more pill bottles on the shelf no more minutes to midnight and beating hearts, pure and black, slow. Midnight gathers her children, casting them black shadows falling growing and creating an image of herself in the light of day always some part of her in the moon or in the sun until Midnight calls them to her again.