Beware the silent dark beckoning like an old friend. The company of others is important, comprehend?
Silver spoons. Tiny teacups. Riddles without answer. Mind where you step, madness causes quite a clatter.
Not all answers can be etched into stone, Leave alone my mysteries of blood and bone.
Step by small step, tiny prints in the sand, The waves they creep, clearing them off the land. Your purpose is lost in the early dawn mist. You already know the pain of the lost unknown.
Smells stir memories bitter sweet. Graphite, paper, dried paint. History.
I long not to sleep.It’s escape an illusion,Much as it’s torment.
There are puppets on the walls, Shattered dolls on the ramparts. What they guard is taken, No more now than a memory. Ghosts of a dream long dreamt, In a world without sunrises.