The nascent poem denies its birth.
It shrieks ennui behind my eyes;
While wailing angels weigh my worth
As silence sweeps the shadowed skies.
But as the dark descends, I rise
And grit my teeth against the tears!
I will not cease, though all hope dies,
To stand my watch unnumbered years–
I am the thing the Darkness fears.
–Jason Diederich, 2014
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