Guy Wilkes


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The Enemy

A terror wrought for years in waxing woe
Departing from the safety of the day
A hooded host in black and silver robes
Entreating to the peace it hides away
Upon the dreaded dusk he reappears
His constance never gives a moment’s rest
He arms himself with games to stoke your fears
And when he plays, you’re always second best
Alas! He knows you must in time give in

[Hata Bildir]