Morbidity in poetry is a necessity
At least that's what was told to me
Perhaps it is simply meant to be
Or am I someone's attempt at creating an entity?

Why does darkness consume my words
Where is the light that should envelop me in its folds
Who is the voice that whispers in my ears
What is the meaning of all of these fears?

I once heard that those who live in the dark, have the greatest love of the light
Opposites attract or so they say, they have no clue that we in the dark learn to embrace the fight
Violence fills the silence, physical or spiritual they are the same
There is comfort in understanding our place, the light is at fault for all of the pain.

Are these words mine
Or are they being created from a stranger's design
Am I just an instrument through which he will garner fame
Who is the puppeteer pulling my strings, what is his name?

What if I am fading, and being replaced
My body remaining but my spirit leaving without a trace
Are these my final words, the last evidence I exist
Or am I simply a ma...