Seated against a wall, arm outstretched wreathed in shadow and flame the likeness of a skull in my palm Derelict has come to call once more threads trail from my heart disappear into distance, I know not where many lay severed at my feet A red strand caught between Derelict's teeth still intact, but not for long. What is this gesture? A threat? An offer? Malice? Pity? Is a little less pain of loneliness worth a lifetime spent alone? How do I recognize the darkness from the light when it masks itself in good intentions? And do I really want to? Does it still matter? I have grown threadbare.
WORDS WRITTEN BY thetakogun thetakogun
He commissioned an "illustration" of this poem...I hope I did these lovely words justice! And sorry it took so long -let me know if you'd like me to change anything!