Is it that I'm really stupid?
or maybe it's that, I'm the cupid
of problems and lucidity,
which explains my stupidity.

The ink in my pen let's me
leave you out, my darkness.
You do dark the prison for me,
I can't be more grateful, my darkness!

A murderer I am,
as  I covered the dark balm
of blood on my lamp
the lamp I was and, I am.

I don't know if you still care, dark.
There's nothing you lack,
I guess you don't miss
the things that were amiss.

Dark - my dreary shark
with, deepening incisors
you summon me, to be the scissors
of my darkness, my dark!