Poe

No Rest for the Weary
By: Adam M. Snow

There's no rest for the weary;
all those times we were dreary;
and agony suffers evermore.
We are swallowed by time;
wanting to die;
all from tormented prime;
and the tears we've shed evermore.

We are weak, bounded by fate;
surrounded by, no love but hate.
There's no dream for the weary;
and all around the night grew eerie.

Morning Ember
By: Adam M. Snow

I arose from my slumber with haste of morning ember;
to be greeted by a knock on my chamber door.
"Who's there?" I said as I am greeted with an;
outstretched hand and the pain I feel nevermore.
"It is me, your mourning star, greeting you from afar."
Quoth the ghost of this morning ember.
I lie back down, confused and alone on this cold;

Loneliness
By: Adam M. Snow

Alone with time left still,
afraid to dream, for it can kill.
Your shadow's your only friend,
and everything else so hard to comprehend.

Hangman's Gallows
By: Adam M. Snow

The hangman cometh,
to the gallows oaken,
the reapers awaken,
to mend the broken.
The mourners mourn,
a soul that was scorn.

Your judgment comes,
now's the end,
like a dying friend,
laying you at rest,
in a hollowed coffin,
as they dance and jest.

The mark of noose,
around your neck,
if weakness may excuse.
They dance and dance,