Tuesday, 27 July 2010


Black, is the colour without which she is not whole,
Black, is the colour of her twisted soul,
Black, is the colour in which her world is embedded,
Black, is the colour you see when all has ended.

Her colour holds you in a grip so tight,
So tight that you cannot break the hold,
In her heart there is only darkness, no light.
With her colour she will make your blood run cold.

This colour is a weapon, it is her strength,
It is only in blackness yours seems spent,
And when she comes to you, you shiver and shiver,
Since there is no light in your blackest hour.

Nobody, nothing, can save you from her curse,
But your own will, and great courage,
Even when she attacks with incredible force,
You are your salvation's sole, available source.

She is terrible, she is strong, she has power,
But she can be conquered, you can fight her,
Though she makes you cry, scream and cower,
Because without her blackness she is just fear.

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