The morn

The human race still fears thy face,
The darkness in thy wake,
The children wise to be scared of what lie ahead,
For morn may never come in their heads,
To them poems of darkness whisper in their ears,
"The Bell will tolls for thee, but never more shall it be,"
The morn will never come, to thee who hears its ring.

The mirror image

In the light they show no fear,
Changing in shape,
In darkness the scream,
Cutting themselves only to heal,
For we are the ones they so long despise,
Forgotten shadows still linger,
But with no master they do as they wish,
Still screaming terror, pleading,
"Why won't it end?"
Yet they see us every day,
They hide in the bowels of their minds.
Only awaiting our tragic demise.

Black plague

Dashing through the wood,
Running for shelter in perilous pursuit,
Death quarted without consent,
Yet death by what name?
The fallen whisper...

Nothing

Worthless,
My life is not
full of happiness,
My heart is
full of sorrow,
This world can be
nothing important.

_____________________
read backwards second time