Here is where the darkness seeps in, and leaves me unsure of where to begin.
So very long it had been since last I saw him, forgotten until now his language of sin.
With a familiar hand he beckoned me here, gleefully ensuring there be no one else near,
So alone he may witness, alone he may hear, the sights and the sounds that accompany true fear.

Amused with himself now, he laughs and he sings, of the sorrowful memories he callously brings.
“You alone dreamt of angels with dead, broken wings. Of your prison, your past, the most terrible of things.”
Then a moment all logic refuses to explain, a paradox reality born into my brain,
While the song shifts suddenly to a solemn refrain, “You and I are both one in the same.”

All song and thought stops as a small eternity of silence encases us, and shatters.

Shaken, I fall to a knee, knowing more now than I want to believe.
Seeing a war I was not meant to see, take its toll now on the physical me.
A captive, held tight by his strings, no resisting his voice as it still softly rings
Of apologies insincere and premature fallen kings. I sing songs of the comfort that misery brings.

Now solemn, he studies my dread, offers a letter, and turns back his head.
I tremble at the words I find written in red, “Lady luck, I’m afraid, was never our friend.”
I cry, “How could I deserve all of this? Am I truely a man of such ill conscience?”
He doesn’t respond, he waits, and he listens to the words of the storm as it approaches from the distance.

“Depart from all hope, and all fairness betrayed.
For a night comes this night, turns all matter to gray.
Render vision forgotten, and life slumberless pain.
Know now and embrace, the slow death of life’s flame.”