That time can be poignantly likened to walking down a dark and lonely lane.
Those crusty, decadent oak trees were doubled over in the wind.
Their branches gave you life, pumping blood that only sinned.
Drops of rain did fall, bringing sharp, unpredictable chills.
You’re a truly despicable human, who loves such sadistic thrills.
The path was engulfed by darkness and by thick mist that blocked my view.
My fear was that of the future and that my fait I never knew.
Silence was the king of the air, except for sporadic shrieks;
I was laughed at by your raven-like voice, and by a crowd of hackling freaks.
To my left stood lonely gravestones, crumbling slowly under force.
Their grainy facades knew so much time, and hinted at my course.
The moon’s shine threw down pictures, and engraved them on the ground;
web-like traps from Hell, and the silhouette of a lowly hound.
Such objects threatened my life and thus such trepid steps ensued,
because my body could be proof, and in twenty years, exhumed.
I heard a metallic clicking sound that was sharp upon my ears.
A cold ring chilled my forehead and it ignited all my fears.
I squinted my eyes and saw a light; a car driving along towards me?
No, but rather a shooting star, the last thing I'd ever see...
It doesn't flow as well as it could, but I was sick of repeatedly coming back to this poem and modifying it.
EDIT: I altered it, once again.
Edited by Flash Caz, 08 September 2005 - 12:19 PM.