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Hautings
Silently and quite momentarily, he leaves his wake,
Upon the rush of midnight quake.
Upon the beating pounds of furry
And the nights forbidden tales.
Tales of haunting that leave no soul
Apathetic to the details that it entails.
Entails to the hearts resound.
With beats that creep a young mans cry,
Or the sounds of a distant lullaby.
And on top of all these daunting spiels,
I will not tell you the very last detail,
Of the man who left his life,
By one souls seething ignites.
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Sometimes life takes a path that is hard to walk on, so all you have to do is put on your hiking boots.