It comes to me in dead of night when dark dreams flood the mind.
A vision of black in mine eye which sends a shiver through the bones;
A vision to horrify.
It dwells on hill cemetery.
Perched on an old oak tree,
Barely to move; never to fly,
Though screams in stinging undertones a loathsome lullaby.
Staring, though more so, glaring…
Haunting. Watching. Stunning the nerves.
No wish it has to fly,
Do anything more than gaze;
A gaze to damnify.
I know that it doth hate me with a passion few have known;
That’s why it resides on high piercing me with it’s cold stare.
In darkness I lie.
Oh cruel, black bird of night release your ghastly hold.
Oh why? Oh why?
Can’t thou fear anothers’ soul?
Forever night is nigh.
K. Aldaya, 4/25/04
Picture: “Her Graveyard” by Gothicolors Donna Snyder; http://fineartamerica.com/featured/her-graveyard-gothicolors-images.html