Hiding Behind Mirrors

I want to crawl into the skins of others;

To skitter up their walls

And hide behind their mirrors.

I want to be able to become invisible,

To walk by undetected

And simply observe.


House of Horrors

I live in a house

made up of smoke;

it was built by shadows

and cemented by ghosts.

my whole life

i have lived in this crypt

and yet not once complained

of the company of the deceased.

i have found that one can get used

to living amongst the dead

and dining with ghouls.

The Valley of Dying Stars

This is the Valley of Dying Stars,

Of broken dreams and cut strings.

In here I no longer dangle

From the uncertainty of my master’s whims.

Instead I fall, fall, fall

After finally pulling free.

The wait to reach the ground

Has got to be the worst,

Since on my way down,

I see nothing but gloom.

Dying stars with wishes clutched in hand,

Broken dreams with their glint fading quick,

And cut strings falling alongside me.

I know not if I will reach the ground

Or fade into nothingness on the way.

I know not if this is the better way

Or if I should still be dangling away.

And so I close my eyes and hope for the best

Here in the Valley of Dying Stars

Surrounded by decay.

Puppet Master

I need to tell someone,

I need to open my mouth

And tell you,

A stranger,

What goes through my mind.

I am just as they are;

I am no worse and no better than them.

We were born the same way

And shall die the same.

Yet it is the in-between where the problem lies,

Where our differences begin to show.

Someone else dictates my life,

Someone else pulls my strings.

I am but a mere puppet with no control of my limbs.

My friends were born without strings,

While mine have been pulled on

Since I was just eight years old.

I had no choice in the matter

Yet the strings are impossible to cut.

For if I do so, it means certain death,

And so I dangle from my strings as I dream of pulling free.

My strings mean uncertainty and misery

For I know not when they will be cut,

And yet being cut free

Is a thing of nightmares for me.

So I dangle, and dangle, and dangle on

Hoping for someone to take pity on me

And steal me away from my puppet master.

It is all I can do to not live my life

Thinking of the strings.

A Place Of Shadows

It is a place of shadows,

It is a place of Death.

Follow the path leading down to it

And you are certain to never return.

Creatures lurk around every corner,

Monsters from unimaginable nightmares,

From terrifying dreams.

They wait to pounce on the unsuspecting,

They wait to hound the weak.

Do your best not to be caught,

For once you have,

You will never be seen.

The shadows themselves shall make you one of their own

And Death itself shall lay his claim on you.

It is a place of new shadows,

It is a place of Death’s realm.

Don’t follow the path leading down to it

For you are certain to never return.

I Was Born Into An Army

I was born into an army

And have always known my place;

Ready to die with my comrades,

Ready to die for my faith.

Our numbers are endless

Yet we never seem to be enough.

We run together,

We run with the wolves.

Some say we know not our place,

Others look on forlorn.

We know our place and our limits,

We know war is our song.

We sing the song of death

Together as one.

I was born into an army

And we shall die as one.