Black
A black book about owls
Black cover and blanket too
Not a single color taint other than shadow
And his favorite black hood.
He lay restless in his bed as he flips the pages
They told him it was fine, but
Not even his shadow can keep him alive.
He was quiet and reserve
Always been in his empty room
Other than his intense sign and black guitar
He hummed a lonely tune.
Have you seen the void in his eyes?
The light before has faded
The messy hair, he rarely brushes
Shadows those empty pupil
And everything about him.
He does not care what others say
But he's blackened.
nightstrig
