Skip to content
Stephen Geddis, Contributor.
A Sense of Doom, a Palm of Tears
Intense Gloom, the Embalm of Fear
The Skin’s a Canvas, Depression the Brush
Akin to Man’s Bliss and Succession of Lust,
Arising like Shadows, I’m Desolated by Grieves
Like a Bedizen of Gallows, Decorated by Thieves
By Wroth’s Deft, I’m Battered in Flashes
My Thoughts Left, Scattered as Ashes
Those Cold Stares, so Empty and Vast
They Watch like Nightingale,
No Soul Cares, they Dement Me and Laugh
As I Latch to a Life so Frail,
My Hopes Lay Abandoned,
Whilst Loneliness Stays, My Only Companion….