The Darkness is Calling. No matter what I do to escape, there's this shadow that follows me ready to pounce as soon as I'm exhausted again. I can never roam free for long, in fact, it's hot on my heels so I'm never truly free at all. It's more than a craving, an urge, an impulse; I have no name for it other than darkness.
It seeps into my pores, into my mouth as it opens to scream, and it paints my eyes in its hue. It finds me wherever I hide as easily as it finds me if I keep running without rest. It's always there, staring back at me when I dare to turn around. It replaced my own shadow long ago so it can hide in plain sight in front of others, but I'll always know what it really is.
The darkness caresses the monster, this beast within that I keep so tightly bound hidden inside of me. It beckons, it encourages the monster's mutany. The darkness swirls me and the monster together until we are one. I'm in danger of breaking out of containment once again.
It's calling, can you hear its voice whispering on the echoes of silence at night? I can. It's a waking nightmare. It's my dream. It's my reality.
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