Mute

Mute hues of dusk gone, still ‘cept for clerid Sight is slight, sloe murk taunts with ‘a whisper Shadows come creeping, silence grows trepid Twilight so stark, not ‘beam of pale lunar Seeps through this chill shroud of ritual arcane Sight is slight, sloe murk taunts with ‘a whisper My thoughts become smart as my wisdom fades No sense or viscera to ‘vert brae’k bone Seeps through this chill shroud of ritual arcane I lone am the wolf whose fangs turned to stone Close my feigned eyes, yearn for glimpse of sea green No sense or viscera to ‘vert brae’k bone Barren confines for this degrade machine No solace comes for a soul like me..... so Close my feigned eyes, yearn for glimpse of sea green I spied too late what I chose to forgo Mute hues of dusk gone, still ‘cept for clerid No solace comes for a soul like me….. so Shadows come creeping….. silence grows trepid.