My home is doubt, lined with crystals of anger.

My temple of mistakes.

My stepping stones of sadness.

My castle of alone.

My empty castle. Smelling of lies that have been whispered in the street.

Looking like broken glass, shattered in the sky.

Feeling of rough pebbles, on the rocky roads.

And if you care to listen, you

Might just hear the

Wailing of the demons, knowing

End is near.

The end.

And yet again, if

You dare to get close,

You would be able to

Taste

The misery,

Floating through the air.

But then again

You don’t really

Care. You’ll never,

Ever,

Get close enough

To even see me.

But maybe,

Just maybe, if you

Listen close enough

You’ll hear me

Screaming, in the

Dark.

The echoes of my

Despair,

Floating through the

Twilight-coated

Midnight.