Gloomy Cradles

Small, random little poem.

Random little bit; was part of a bigger poem.

Gloomy Cradles

Hide in silence; quake with joy;
Darkness eats blood red tears.
Ticking anger fills the void;
Clocks hand only a mere,
Seven hours past our deaths.
Would you dare to break the night?
Threats looming; gray and deep
Lay down, go to sleep.