Graveyard

The silhouettes of your treachery

Inch towards me every second,

Along the cascading lies,

But I'm too blinded by this fallacy,

And perhaps

Too sober to see through it.

Screams seem to be seized

on the tip of my tongue,

Only the perfect decibel

Of the mellifluous symphony

Of the bracing winds

Fissured the silence of the night

As the skies wept over it.

And when the moon is shrouded

In the murky clouds again

I descend back into my grave

Of despondency.