Shadow
I see
you.
Memory
of my
false self.
Coldness
of the closed
heart.
Shadow
I see
you.
Lurking
in my
mind.
Whispering
old
tales.
Shadow
I see
you.
Seeking
once more
domination.
Darkness
of my
soul.
Shadow
I see
you,
The temple
of the false self
grows more decadent
with decay.
Cracks
adorning its
still proud
face.
Midnight masses
gather at
the dark hour
of the soul.
Performing
pagan rituals
to heathen
gods.
Chanting
incantations
of their trials
and tribulations.
Telling
stories
of their
false selves.
Casting idols
in their own
graven
images.
They reaffirm
their faith
that one another
is real.
