The shat­tered mir­ror on the floor
The moon­light bro­ken into pieces
Reflect­ing thou­sands of nights
That make my soul so rem­i­nis­cent
Of dark­est grief for fallen light
I used to seek with desperation

I looked for day but found night
Filled with the fear and frustration

And night by night I could not sleep
My angel left me in the dark­ness
Of nar­row room of grimmest thoughts
The cry­ing thoughts that were my masters

Then He would come
On win­dowsill his strange pro­file of palest
Pal­let of cold­est blue, trans­par­ent yel­low
Lit up by moon…his eyes would fer­ret
His dirty cup…
my soul would scorch
In flames of thy red hell­ish power
To fail my will…

I could not think.…
He handed venom ..I would drink.

Ded­i­cated to Edgar Allan Poe