Pick at my brain like a ****** of crows
Exposing my prose to the highest of lows
As you shelter my soul in malevolent violet
Beguiling my sky lit demise to an islet
Of lonely ambitions caressed in possession
And paradise fields of post-mortem depression
Imbibing my vibes in a faint recollection
Of Dracula spirits entombed in reflection
Without any sustenance save for your voice
And its soothing illusions that leave me no choice