Faint smacks,

Are his only form of tracks.

They echo down the alley,

Smack, smack, smack— 

 Soundly, but softly.

I see him,

But the fog hides myself.

I wonder,
How grim...

Can the reaper be?

I am merely a night creeper...

But who is he?

As his shadow trails towards the stars,

Whose shine will never die,

Despite the heavy fog.

I follow him.

Down the cobblestone,

And into the open,

Where the sneaky breeze,

Is carried by the ocean,

And into my hair.

I beg to myself,

Don’t go, don't go,

But I already know,

It is too late.

My heart feels as though it is

Bound to break,

And I sense the

Taste of fear— 

As I come to know,

I will soon be truly solo...

For a shadow,

Hath risen from the mist,

Down on the mossy bridge.

I shatter.

I run.

I call for someone,

But I am truly stung.

The fog stabs my lungs,

And I try to scream,

But my voice is only a dream.

The shadow stops and stares,

A black beast of omnipotent strength,

Convinced that no one cares.

He hears my screaming— 

He’s heard too much in his life,

That’s why he’s on the bridge.

O, if only I had acknowledged his strife.

But alas,

I left Icarus to fall,

Left his feathers to pluck.

I failed to shield his soul,

From el sol,

The sun.

And now he is in freefall.

Ploop.

💧