The fall of the crimson curtain

Murmuring their dissent are the voices of the night,

'wakening latent fears that take from the moon its soothing light,

whilst the shadows, in a trance, paint disturbing pictures black,

on the walls within your heart, that now plunder and ransack

all the order you've created in the shambles of your life,

as they rip with sharpened edge through this canvas with a knife,

bringing fresh blood to the surface of the mirror-smooth reflection

that was gazing at the world, in its place a crimson curtain.

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