Your Corpse Bleeds The Whispers Of The Dark

wamtac

The light flees

in the presence of the night

Shadows long, and winds light

with the whispers of the dark

In the midst of trees

do corpses bleed

winds heavy with gifts of gore

and whispers of the dark

The land runs a ruby red

and the few, beating souls dread

the messenger who speaks

in whispers of the dark

Clouds take eerie shapes

and harlequins lie in wait

to hunt, to feed the messenger

of the whispers in the dark

A torrential downpour

does the cascade of blood roar

as the white light is pillaged

in the whispers of the dark

And all around

there is no sound

but the whispers in the dark

 

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