TORCHER'S CHAMBERS

Asleep for now, but ever edging toward wakefullness.

Darkness is dreaming, in fits of restlessness.

I can feel it every time it stirs, a shiver down my spine.

When it awakes dread will incur, it happens every time.

I pray it will die within it's sleep, rot away inside it's hole.

But then I feel that icy touch, at the bottom of my soul.

Linked like twins, are darkness and I.

And I can tell, not much longer will it lie.

You are the one who built the darkness it's bed.

When you left that part of my soul, so dead.

Darkness found the perfect place to rest, a deep decaying hole.

For because of you. Now darkness sleeps in the depths of my rotted soul. 

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