kimberlee

Night
~
Night knocks at my door,
But there was never a Lenore,
The raven was just a figment of never more,
As the wind blows over the moors,
My heart rattles at the lore,
Where dreams brush upon the shore,
Like a festering spore,
Leaching out with its gore,
A sight to abhor,
While it bleeds out its ore,
Mockingly it roars,
Rising to battle without a war,
For there was nothing for it to implore,
It too, shall recede into never more,
As if it was poured forth by days of yore-
From a soul that isn't anymore