The hour is late,
The fresh dew cold and crisp on my feet.
A few more steps and I'll be gone,
past the point of no return,
where the agony of looking back
will finally cease.
I have dreamt of this moment,
of the release of all feeling.
But looking into the black abyss,
I find that I am still afraid of the dark.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC
The hour is late,
The fresh dew cold and crisp on my feet.
A few more steps and I'll be gone,
past the point of no return,
where the agony of looking back
will finally cease.
I have dreamt of this moment,
of the release of all feeling.
But looking into the black abyss,
I find that I am still afraid of the dark.
Hello all! This will be the first in a series of poems I will be posting, hence the title. I will be using this series to describe the events that lead to me becoming The Scarecrow. Follow me to learn more about my story!