• Gothic


    The Shadows creep,
    and obstruct the light.
    It might be an omen
    preparing for a fight.

    The Shadows creep,
    and I am lost.
    I search around,
    But everything's dark.

    I should be scare,
    terrified to death.
    But i fell safe,
    as if I'm in place.

    I hear a voice calling my name.
    Calling it in urgent whispers,
    as I feel a shiver crawl on my skin.
    I'm scare now, and yet full of bliss.

    The Shadows are whom call to me,
    repeats my name in urgency.
    They've brought me comfort and now its my turn;
    the favor they made will be return.

    I amble closer to the call,
    now fully in bliss,
    and not scared at all.

    I trip and trip,
    as I try to find my way.
    Trying hard to accomplish my goal.
    Ignoring the heat,
    as well as the cold,
    that seems to be exerting from this black hole.

    I keep on walking and walking.
    I'm not certain where I'm heading,
    but the call continues,
    thus, so do I.
    And I WILL continue,
    even after the end of Night.

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    To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

    Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

    NYX’s Poems (6)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    "I Am" Poem 1
    MY CITY 3
    UNIQUE 1
    What I Regret 0
    THE CALL 0