The blankness stared with huge white eyes
Some kind of monster in disguise
It threatened me with unknown harm
And strange, unearthly cries

My words came scrawling up the page
They reeked with tears and dusty age
I weakly scratched for meaning there
But all I found was rage

A fleeting glimpse I almost caught
The creature taking form, I thought
My inner darkness then I faced
And saw what I had wrought

Fingers hard like rusty bone
It scraped my heartache out, alone
The verse seemed old; a hundred years
A wrinkled, deadly crone