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a story of a poem

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A dreary fog rolling in
long long ago on a night
That is how the story started
before the ending was complete

A terrifying story of loss and anger
Life never demised such as this
Knowing is half the beginning
Pain is half the ending

what is the middle never knowing
What is the beginning never wondering
What is the ending never telling
Though the story must go on

A light in shadows a darkness in beams
A wandering soul lost and afraid
Comes to a home in a tiny town
Where the home was made

tired his soul became in battle
Fighting the storms that were raging
Crashing wave after wave
an angering outcry

Trapped at sea he was before
As the story continues to get worse
Winds howling at his side thrashing him
What more could a horrible tale need

winding half dead the man lay
a waking fog is where the story began
Going back to the beginning
A poem that makes little sense

Wandering for miles crossing wastelands
Coming to a house that has no door
A window but oh so tiny a window
No room for the man to come in

Walking around not even a single wooden opening
Looking down he sees a key but nothing more
An opening at last opening a door to follow
As he picks up the key to open it

walking inside a mirror a single beautiful mirror
oh how curious he was to see himself
But only the reflection of a dead woman
The tears of blood upon her face

Smiling at him she walks away
beautiful is the mirror horrors are what lie inside
to find more then bargened for a casket
Where his dead remains lie but only he is awake

What travesty is this that he is alive and dead
Looking at the future of himself with his very eyes
A darkness befalls him in a sudden swoop
Death claims his soul as he falls





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