I stood on Alps edge
Darkness filled my mind
Heroically, slumped I in myth
Between mirrors were entwined.

I was lost among vague figures.
The hero the heroin’re clashing with death
The grisly scenes! The raven shivers,
Croaking spells form the black wish.

Adrenalin spilt from my wounded hand,
And from disintegrated splinters of epic’s skies.
Tumultuous is my psyche; lethal thine wand.
Lo! Ghosts dressed in gowns and sharp‘re their scythes.

I cried out this nonentity is it my insanity?
Lord! Who reigns in books betwixt antique lines?
What blights afflicted their pens? Is it a chronic calamity?
What was the ink, warm blood or fine wine?

These verses are unspoken
The hero’s still unsung
Bare feet on thorns and ambers are walking
On the ****ves these books are hung.

author: juggernaut