Shadows of the Pysch
Why do I solemn seldom lie,
and stare upon the ceiling high?
While earth rotates within the sky,
I simply, softly, dryly cry.
The clock strikes twelve long daunting chimes,
shadows distort which once were mimes.
Silhouettes boast in dance and rhyme,
they pierce my thoughts, disrupt my mind.
My silent screams confirm my fears,
my eyes framed red from constant tears.
Their breath upon the window smears,
I hear their whispers in my ears.
Chastise me not, please let me go,
free me from your sick mental blow.
You wait till night, to say 'hello',
carve me out, then return below.
I feel your presence in my soul,
like bleakest night, as black as coal.
Why does your nature linger so,
many years you mindlessly stole.
Be gone vile fiends, I wish to rest,
to study hard, to pass my tests.
Oh shadows, voices, pointless pests,
leave me now, most unwanted guests.
The clock rings four, morning begun,
shadows retreat, from night of fun.
As if the tepid light they shun,
I, thankful for the morning sun.
5/2/2020
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