The locked room with only a match for light is where I stopped. Hope and the thing that ends her come out of the same small flame, and that sat heavy with me for a while. My guess is she struck it herself so someone outside would finally see where she was.
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Her angelic wails echo through the halls,
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The locked room with only a match for light is where I stopped. Hope and the thing that ends her come out of the same small flame, and that sat heavy with me for a while. My guess is she struck it herself so someone outside would finally see where she was
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Her angelic wails echo through the halls,
A seeming calm, a cautionary of the tragedy to befall,
My head goes blank, my mind a clear canvas, for your story untold, your picture unpainted, your perspective left unknown
my body moves on its own, as if drawn to her call, enticing me, bewitching me, desperately trying to enthrall
A melody so hard to resist, surrounds me in this unfamiliar bliss, carefully luring her victim into the abyss
I walk through these endless halls, forever dreaming, is this a punishment or perhaps something worth redeeming?
Her song, a silent whisper to all, a true ballad's tale, for she is her own bard so her story may prevail
Trapped inside, with a door locked without a key,
Left with nothing but time and fear as your company,
The light of a match as your guide, an envisionment of your hope and life,
A blazing flame as it erupts, leaving her heart engulfed
The sounds of her wails so loud,
Yearning to be free with no way of escape, no trail to lead out
The fire set ablaze lights the sky ,
Reminiscent of dawn during the sunrise
Once a beauty of galore,
Now but a piece to merely adore
Thoughts
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PermalinkThe tag at the bottom makes me think a game started this, some haunted level where the singing pulls you down the hall. Which game was it?
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PermalinkEnding on the fire lighting up the sky like a sunrise makes me think of old folk ballads, where a woman nobody saved is only remembered because people kept singing about her. I bet whoever walks those halls next carries her song out with them, and that is the only escape the poem allows.
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PermalinkThe locked room with only a match for light is where I stopped. Hope and the thing that ends her come out of the same small flame, and that sat heavy with me for a while. My guess is she struck it herself so someone outside would finally see where she was.