Death Beckons

Beneath midnight’s vexing veil, insidious shadows creep. A tormented mind weaves its tale, where solitude and loneliness weep. A soul surrounded by a storm of woe, death’s relentless call, Lost and all alone, he drifts through labyrinthine halls. The mirror’s ghastly gaze, reflects a loathsome face. Each etched line, scars of time, leaving sorrow’s somber trace. The wistful whispers of self-disdain, their murmurs maliciously clear, Silent screams of eternal pain, a dirge for none to hear. A haunted maze of faded memory, where wonder once dared to tread, Now echo with wails of misery, where hope has long been dead. Loneliness, a phantom’s hand, tightens its cruel clasp, Sanity hangs by a single strand, in darkness’ deviant grasp. Succumbing to the dread of endless night, marked by silent, tearless cries. A soul devoid of hope’s guiding light, seduced by the Devil’s alluring lies. Death beckons like a siren’s call, a promise of sweet relief. Life lingers like a darkened squall, drowning in a sea of endless grief. In midnight’s dark embrace, can a flicker faintly gleam? A softly whispered trace, a bleak question in a dream-- Is there dawn beyond this endless night, a peaceful morning not yet seen? Or does this abyss consume all light, and drown the soul serene? Alas, the shadows close their grasp, as night gives way to day, A final breath, one last gasp, as sorrow slips away. In the stillness of the grave, his struggle finds release, In death’s embrace, a soul so brave, attains eternal peace.