More Poetry Outtakes

Night Ritual

Around, all around, the shadows gather.
My dread grows as doom's scythe falls against my heart.
It severs me, and darkly my
essence drips
to the thirsty earth.
In a frenzy I cry out, Why?!
while oblivion takes my hand.
Now alone, my vitae falls upon cold eyes.

This is your love.

///////////////

Awful, isn't it? That one was generated at the Create Your Own Darkly Gothic Poem site. (I swear I've never used it before . . .)

(found at The Word Foundry)