20 May 2012
Inky black wings, Smother the page. Destroying it with darkness, Smog released from its cage.
Waltzing amongst the words, Turning all things dark. It's too late to call for the morning lark.
It consumes all letters, Twisting them in ways. It consumes the journal, Each day to day.
To late to trap, Such beautiful dark words... They've traveled with the smog. For the corruption to be heard.
Inky Black Wings • Opuss № I