December 15th, 2020 XII.XV.MMXX 2213-2237 You see the bleak gallows As crows and ravens Council together To discuss omens. Strange fruit hang From those weathered branches. Eerily keeping an eternal watch Of the creeping dark. Scattered lie black feathers As more dance in the wind Forming half recognized And distorted memories. The water flows quietly Yet is impure, Grey and black As ashes are disturbed. Embers dance amongst Those cast off feathers As they catch fire And disintegrate before thee. And so the ashes glide Before dropping and sinking, Drowning into that Murky flow. Adding to the sediment Of what once was and is, Yet not fully understood, Nor can they be. The chorus of the crows And ratchet of the ravens Interweave and a song Descends upon you. It flies into your heart Without regard for its weakness And so one must continue To walk that watery path. And you hear that whisper Of pure nothingness. An escape from the turmoil Of emotions never wanted. Memories could

December 15th, 2020 XII.XV.MMXX 2206-2212 If the pain of the past Would stop screaming And burning through My veins… Then the present Would not retreat From my clawing And desperate form. But it cackles maniacally As I drag myself Through the mud Born from salted tears. Craters of misery Litter the battlefield Like the desolate surface Of the lonely moon. The future unobtainable For I cannot achieve the present Lost like an echo In a cavernous void. But I grit my teeth And bite the bullet As I trudge through this Broken landscape. Though the past Lingers like a shadow Singing upon the breeze That brings shivers. I will not drown In the tears of melancholy For this existence is suffering And seeing the beauty. Struggle on and embrace This clammy grasp That seeks to pull you under Into that mass grave. Yet fade away not Into that hollow ground, Kick and scream Whilst dragging thyself forward. For the present is fleeting And flying ever onwards Into that future Of weary past.