While the waking world sleeps
I the Shadow , prowl the streets.
Bending and curving
gliding and flying.
I knock on the sleep stricken mortal's window.
Scratch. Scare. Pound. Plunder. Listless and bleed.
Blessed are the ones who have mastered the art of sound sleep.
Rest are just waiting their time
and pretending to sleep.
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
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