Faceless Ghosts
The faceless ghosts of dead desires haunts me,
And fills me with the dreams of false despair,
While the knowledge of just 'what may be', it taunts me,
Like a heavy mist just hanging in the air.
The carousel of life, it just keeps turning,
But the tune is so discordant, void of taste,
Yet the fire within my veins, it still keeps burning,
Until death will prove to be the perfect waste.
The attic of my mind is dark and dusty,
Yet the cloth within my hand is soiled and frayed,
Memories of the past get old and musty,
While the 'nameless ones' just call to be obeyed.
The faceless ghosts of dead desires are stalking,
Bringing centuries of darkness, fear and pain,
On the path of my subconsciousness they're walking,
As they wait for me to give them life again.
-Written by a 14yr old Necromancer (who just remembered it).
This stuff has been going on for a while.