Night Owl

She sit alone most days, most nights. Perched in corner with her pipe. Smoking rock she holds on tight, only to fade into the light of the flickering candle she burns so bright. For night owl know all is not right, can't find her way she won't fight so, death awaits her final flight perched in corner with her pipe that numbs all feelings, that wrongs , all right. So close the door the windows now, lock them tight don't make a sound and, creep around quietly if any should knock you, can't be to trusting in your spot. So, let the tears build up till your weak in your knees, and, keep on smoking to the wheeze, of the poison your pipe does breed.