|Shadow Out Of Time
Joined: 31 May 2004
|They sit in their shadowed corners,
in dreary midnight-laden raven dreams.
They share their miscellaney,
and write their tortured screams.
From the hollows,
their boneyard songs follow,
Filling the dead
Encrypted in a sea of glass,
with volumes of tomes to creepify your ass.
They are the tide that torments keep,
those one's who reside in the written deep.
A horror in the macabre wish,
from fear of that most ancient fish.
O woe to you oh earth and sky
for HPL writers never really die.
-- I wrote this because I strongly believe writing is the way man reaches immortality :D
[I don't know who H.P. Lovecraft is]