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8/20/2015 5:48:06 PM

Pendleton Arkwright
Posts: 2

Hark, the striking of the match,

As the gloaming cedes to midnight,

On this shadow driven path.

Behold, the silken yellow flame,

They are fleeing from the harshness,

For the darkness they became.

Lo, vociferating woe,

At the bitter, harrowed wisdom,

That the void shall be their home.

And I, I have hewned myself a room,

And I'll soon be yoked to shadow,

In the Pits of Nether Gloom.

For nay, I have none now left to blame,

I am coming home to darkness,

For my sins are of the same.

And feel, the deep and dreadful shame,

At the final, fearful flicker,

Of my soul and silken flame.

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