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Black Is the Hour

Black is the hour.

Brief is the time.

Darkened are the words,

That overshadow barbed wounds.


Tenebrous is the day.

Savage is the night.

That sees nightmares realised,

With evil intent.


Confined to isolated exile,

Where walls quell, mortify and oppress.

Tormented in latent lunacy,

Bullied, beaten and cursed.


Senseless actions,

That warrant justice.

Just as they behest peace.

As these abandoned moments,

Are devoured by sin.


Witnessing these closing breaths diminish,

That marks this life ended, if not yet unfinished.

© 2021 Alana Bembridge

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