Dead of the Dead
Solace lacks in the crimson night
Diabolical vindictiveness lessens the light
Drink up your absinthe and feed on unsheltered prey
Not to walk beneath unmarked shadows at day
Fearing the loneliness consuming your soul
As well, blood sinfully shed for sense of control
Courting dread mentally within your being
And loosing sight in what you are seeing
The corpse of the earth keeps proposition in sight
When you are walking alone in the dead of the night
Copyright © Kristin Cole | Year Posted 2008
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