A Ballad for Death

A compilation of the first 500 poems I ever wrote.
I write in my free time accross different styles and themes, sometimes there are reasons to what I write and sometimes there are not, but I always try to follow my inspiration.


197. Night has come



Pitter patter on the street,

Raindrops on a violin

Falling like notes on a sheet,

Long after the last complin,

Night has come, full of mystique

One might fear or one might seek,

Its dark mantle fit for kings

Hath fallen and giveth wings

To ideas and thoughts most wild

That grow in adult and child

Don’t you want to dream again?

If only to relieve th’pain?

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