I hear them in the frail beating of darkness
they call asking to talk to their loved ones
their past echo's of reality resound in my mind
and all I can do is listen and relay their words

I never asked to be a in between
to be a representation of the dead
but here I am in the midnight hour
conveying the words they have said

To have a gift that is feasibly insane
to know others think me rather strange
I know half believe the other half are sceptics
yet my world is arranged not at all deranged

In the old days, oh those days
they would torture you
make you confess to their lies
and drape the cloak of death on you

But here I am
in the shadow of the night
working hard
to give spirits flight


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris