Poetry
(Work in Progress)

Softly falls the light of day
As the night winds stir dismay.
Mourn upon the star who falls
From it pedestal, high and tall.
Forgive me, O' Crimson Sun,
And rescue me from the Evil One.
Come O' Come Emmanuel,
And rescue me from this internal hell.

I feel the teardrops trickle down
As they fall silently
Upon the ground.
I watch the light fade away
As night's shadow
Comes to stay.