I am being consumed by the darkness it wears me like an overcoat on a frosty night warming me need to stay warm it only seams to know my desires that part of me that strays or sneaks out through the window that part that avoids the sermon or stomps it's feet cause he wasn't allowed to watch the omen I am consumed this dark is like a silent friend or a wrong turn a page missing from the good book a light bulb flickering the only candle in the house this dark talks only when calling your name and if it calls twice then that is considered friendly it knows no right and sees only loss it's fear is nothing but a good dream it's wing is old and tattered and it thinks this dark is alive and has been for centuries alone in the mirror waiting for the end that will never come never holding but scratching never walking besides only here and no more why did you not listen what was it that you saw when you retreated was it brighter warmer?