Flying birds through the sky,

Warning me of others nearby,

Though I know they may be friends,

I watch my step through all of the bends.

Running through the dark deep woods,

Looking for the unsuspecting dome,

The insects buzzing of all their moods,

I cannot stop until I get home.

The dark presses against my side,

Trying to draw me to it's depressed abide,

So with all my patience I do bide,

Looking for a lonesome ride.

I look up to the old black sky,

and can't help feeling something awry,

And though my soul feels as if it could fly,

I see my body start to die.

-TardisRobber