the nights' company

she was tall
she was fair
of whom has long silky black hair.

a face once of pure innocence
now tainted with devilish mockery

to live a life that has none to live for
or more correctly, to live a death

her pale, fair skin
compliments her bloodshot red eyes
filled with emotions that has run dry
but still clinging on to a world not hers.

the staleness of the midnight's breeze
the ominous serenity of the moon
the uncertainty of being safe
walking back

alone.


for that is what she feeds upon

her deathly pale complexion
likened to a waxen image

thou shall not be comforted
by the very thought of such presence
such clinging bitterly cold gothic presence

walking alone at night
who knows when thy

might just be lucky enough

to have




some company.