The Pitchy Black Night

The Pitchy Black Night

 

I rued the blood that pooled

I would be soon entombed

The guilt is not exhumed

I waited for the doom

 

The midnight eclipsed the noon

As the sky was crowned with moon

And the stars were cursed and pruned

For the great galactic gloom

 

The cruelty without a clue

The arson bereft of fume

The sickness that always grew

Like flames in fullest bloom

 

And do you dare presume

What molds my attitudes

My mildewed mind that broods

That rages, plots and stews

 

Copyright, David Gottfried, 2006

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