Something Short



The sun rises over rooftops,

But there is darkness in these woods,

And it drips from broken branches,

In ways that only darkness could.

The peace has long since fled the quiet,

Sending shivers down your back,

With its fingers reaching out,

To drag you deeper through the black.

The sun; it warms a waking world,

But here your breath becomes a ghost,

For its rays reach every place,

Except the one that needs it most.

But far more dangerous than all,

Lie beds of leaves beneath your feet,

As they sing for you to stop,

To simply close your eyes, and sleep.



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