It's a blood stained moon-
as clouds slither through,
licking off the light that now
leaves the ground a purity
of black and great solitude.
The bats fluster blindly in air,
flickering like a moth in flame.
The air it breathes is scarce and fare,
cold and numb in the nostrils
as wind skips through, hauntingly.
The trees under the obscured light,
bows and re-bows after howls.
Manipulated under the realms of evil,
treasuring like peasant to king,
a darker day.
I watch out the bedroom glass,
more strongly as the family sleep
a temporary death,
I lean to listen, a darker tale
a darker story- the reversing of
average day to a darker living.