Indefinite black pervades the air,
a darkened sun casts no shine
luminous black, like concrete surrounds you,
light is absent, Cimmerian shade is all.

Sonorous, sullied, sooty black cloaks all.
Shimmering, in the corner is a jet black,
obsidian hard sparkle, it's just a puddle.
A puddle made to sparkle in the street light.

A joyless sight in the darkness of a Stygian night.
Indistinct figures rush by, oblivious to the sparkling puddle.
Somber souls,mournfully groping homeward in the false electric light.
Home to a comfortless home, having failed to see the sparkle in the dark.

The world is full of wolves...
And more wolves pretending to be sheep;


wicked, heartless, manipulative... deceitful, arrogant, greedy -

good people ...

but somehow I luckily manage to pick up
needles from a ****** haystack--

Somehow(I don't know how)
I manage to come across
good people