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Wretched man! Oh you wretched man!
What is this you feel when stripped of your facade?
You search the gloomy catacombs of your mind
And inside you find a lurking black crow;
You cannot see what you are
Yet you know you are black.
What was once perfunctory is now a haunting urge.
Oh how you cower from the lantern’s ghostly warmth!
As you steal into the night –
This night of sickle moonlit wisps of sky
So pure - and vile,
Yes you hide where you belong;
A matted runt who shivers in the shadows.
Splutters and mutters and steals into the night.
For when all else is dark you ignite,
When eyes are closed you swoop descending;
Shrieking with malevolence you metastasise
And spread, a grotesquely gleeful wildfire
That surges through our minds when all else rests.
I lurch from sleep, panting, sweating
Yet you remain still, imprinted.
That black crow screeches and claws at me!
You wretched, wretched man I fear
You are inside us all.