The darkness seeps slowly
back inside my brain
The images take over
and I'm feeling my old pain
And with it, inspiration
comes knocking-long at rest-
You see, all my writing
was done in darkness best
The knife it beckons to me
The blood it sings aloud
My mood is turning gloomy
As I pull close midnight's shroud
The Surge of Satan whispers
Flowing through this pen
'Oh precious, how I've missed her'
He greets me once again.
I welcome in the darkness
Let it numb away the pain
So long I pushed the darkness
Out in favor of what's sane
But at least I get the comfort
The release that comes with it
Writing all my thoughts out
Even if they make no sense.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem