A dark figure follows me day and night,

Treading my footsteps, yet hidden from sight,

My shadow is the image of shattered dreams,

A silent black reflection of unheard screams.

On the horizon forms a halo of illumination,

A resplendant betrayal of my lost situation,

The sun bequeaths my soul to the night's frosted claws,

Impaled by the falsehood of reality and it's laws.

The silhoetted phantom of night descends,

And all are shadows; there is no end,

It buries it's icy fangs in my heart,

Like the night, I am cold, cocealed art.

The art that resides beyond this plane,

Dwells in my dreams; causing undue pain,

A darkness that frolics in amidst my essence,

Tormenting my mind; an invisible presence.

Reflected in a mirror, I attempt to find me,

A sighing shadow amidst lights is all I see,

A forsaken silhoette lost in delusion,

Hoping to abscond this chilling illusion.

For the truth is a lie and the lie is repressed,

And we are merely dark outlines, by light; opressed,

Someone is observing our every futile movement,

As time passes in a uniformity of moments.