In the darkness of the night,
Where no moon can pierce with light,
In the shadows where it lies,
A murd'rous fire kindled in it's eyes,
Long forgotten does it hide,
And time and time again abide,
Waiting, waiting, in the black,
Scorn and malice is its game,
And its evil can't be slain,
The dark and brood that dwelt inside,
Ne'er can be cast aside,
Pain and sorrow has it wrought,
In its shadows are you caught,
Murder, murder is the call,
A ghostly creature born of the fall,
A beast without pity or scorn,
The night has for so long borne,
It shall hunt you in the end,
And doom's fate does it send,
Waiting, waiting, in the black.
Something from a while ago when someone close died, kind of affected my mood when I wrote this. It was so uncharacteristic that I didn't put much time into editing it after I wrote it, so it's exactly as I penned it. It isn't that great for that reason.
