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.
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