Through the Eyes of a Poet

I see the shadows cast about your troubled face;

The many dark lines of many sleepless nights.

The grey-lit eyes that try so desperately to reach the surface,

From the dreary depths of madness.

They are the eyes of a dead man;

Flat, dull, and listless.

You wander between the worlds of sleep and wakefulness.

Trying to rid the demons that throttle you at night;

Your throat forever parched.

You hear the damned scream;

Spectral figures that come through the mist;

Calling to you.  Pleading for you to join them.

Creatures crawling towards you; feverishly tugging

At your waistcoat. Their abject faces inches from your own.

Their malodorous breath violating your nose.

Their jaws unhinged. Their mouths wide open in an empty scream.

And in the grip of fear, you assent to their cries

As they pull you into the gaping maw of Madness.

(An Ode to Poe)

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