Midnight Dreary

Midnight Dreary An endless sludge. Day to day. Pray to pray. Pray that deep water goes away. Pray that exhaustion no longer comes out to play. The spirits are dim here, they sit by as I shed a tear. Quiet natural, for if my tears were heard, the question would be if I were absurd. For no one cries when a fairy slowly dies. For no one sheds a tear- it is only me, I fear- to go back to the blazing hallway lights, back to the dreams that keep me up all night. The clock strikes three- and the spirits that be come to dwindle in the light. The fairies and their feather assure me they're not gone forever. But my pen, it grows weary, and once upon a midnight dreary, they give me the gift of sight. They follow me around, still to this day, and cry out callooh, callay, for I still believe in their magic and their power. Look around the circle and you shall find- the little folk who live their lives. Oh, how secret and devine.