disarray of thoughts
the pen awaits the warmth of a grip
the parchment lays alone and bare.
You shall not, you shall never,
The hissing wind singes my mind
a gelid tone that stings my spine, and I tremble -
compelled to cower, too terrified to blink.
But hopes are merely hopes
void, forever, of sense and prudence
yet clad in appalling nescience
benighted souls look for their insignificant dreams.
So through meandering thoughts I shall wade
when I let my curtains down
and unnamed ghouls aimlessly wander
down the silent boulevard.
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