The dark swallows
and keeps the bird's
wings pinned down with rocks and death.
Tripping, grasping, gagging
The dark longs to strangle
and throw your lifeless corpse into the abyss.
Mouth open wide
lungs burning with pressure
you try to scream but only air and dust propels forth.
Fingers turn to serpents
and hiss at your very face
Thus the horror of the dark is confirmed.
Not all is lost
If you tread onward, never yielding
A light will shine to you when you think your world
is made of only black.
-Erin M. Truesdale
April 21, 2013
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