Torture your spirit, your soul,
Follow turmoil into black hole.
Which mortal being or tool,
Could forge such a beast so bitter cruel?
Which mortal could bear to feel,
Extent of power which it wields?
An age of dark without the spark,
An age of black in which light lacks.
A kindred feeling to that of none,
A patch of bleak before rays are shone.
This force is known as tenebrosity,
And only one other conquers it’s reign:
It’s alter-ego luminosity,
As turmoil attempts to rise again.Follow me to stay up to date with my writing tips/advice, schedule updates, special offers, prize giveaways, and writing-based competitions. Got any questions/inquiries? Hit that little email icon and send them over.