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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #1648740
In search of true horror
The Quill

In depths to which dark halls converge - a berth to inner soul
An eternal call of destiny echoed before the fall
Resides the horror to unleash; a common plight of will
Cold black pours forth onto the page beneath each stroke of quill

And as the quill with painted word lends face to darken heart
Uncompromising duty beckons to stand apart
Call forth the horror that abides with honesty and weight
In steadfast poise, bestow fury, which dwells at terror’s gate

Though time will cast its mock refrain – abandonment of truth
Where apathy and hastiness makes compromise of muse
Masses embrace wholeheartedly and breathe life unto this stand
While pseudo horror does beguile upon a listless land.

A challenge brought to every soul where horror does reside
May terror, through archaic halls, find quills that never die
To resurrect a spirit of authentic frightened state
Eternal grace to darkened heart beyond a dreary fate
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