Nevermore, The Raven Deplores

They are the reasons I am restless most nights,

While my mind ponders over such thoughts in fright,

Am I as much of a monster as my mind portrays me to be,

Am I really as sick and twisted as a sullen raven on a tree,

Rapping, rapping, at my mind's chamber door,

Rapping, scratching, cackling, never to allow joy anymore,

Seeking, haunting, itching to make me myself deplore.

Am I a monster and nothing else so simply as my mind explores?

Or am I more measly, such as a stately Raven on a floor.

Darker than dreams and more corrupted than nightmares, is this bird a rhetoric for a cure?

Must one face thyself, in thy darkest of lights before oneself can feel secure?

Yet one must always be careful of the tapping on their mind's chamber door.

One can only face the darkness one allows in,

So therefore isn't oneself solely responsible for the prideful sin?

No, pride is much too easy, courage it takes one, to face the demons on the floor,

Courage it takes, to not end what lies in the mirror.

With gentle scratches, rolling, and tapping, on such a surface does one deplore,

But one must take ease with their sins before they can feel secure.

Yearning to find meaning in these hollow chambers for more,

Yearning, wanting, aching for the agony to be no more.

The ropes, the edges, the ledges,

The vial, the bottle, the carton,

The bullets, the needle, the water.

All is too easy, dare I say it's harder to say nevermore.

Dare I say one must live with the rapping,

The ever so gentle tapping on one's chamber door,

To a point with which they abhor.

But it is easier, and far less queasier than other methods presented before.

So I dare thee to look at your demons, to look at thyself in the mirror,

To confront thy darkest of darks,

And quoth,




Very well done. 


Thank you I try my best whenever it comes to any of my writings :)

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