Oh how difficult it is
To find beauty in the black.

Loneliness, a carping vulture,
Hovers domineeringly over my shoulder
Like a judge presiding over a defendant,
Pecking at my skull ardently as if to call
The sleeping phantasms of my mind to order.  
What I am guilty of I cannot say,
Yet I am encapsulated by a dungeon
Where darkness engulfs me like a clammy sleep,
Rendering me senseless and numb.

In presence of my agony, the cynical bird
Assumes the role of conqueror,
Flapping its wings forcefully, walloping the gelid air
Right and left throughout the cell,  
Beleaguering my skin
And rattling my bones.

Oh how I long to extinguish this perpetual anguish.

Though on a rare occurrence,
A ribbon of sunshine stealthy slides
Through a crevice in the
Blistered board suffocating my window.
I rejoice,
Coddling it’s mellow benevolence.
But the light is retrieved by the bird’s
Watchful eyes.
It spreads its wings,
Swoops before my eyes,
And extinguishes the light,
Fueling the frigid, black
Night.

Oh how difficult it is
To find beauty in the black.