pensword

This is a fade poem, and I thought I would try to personify one of the more mysterious parts of our everyday life - our shadow.

I don't know, something has always seemed delightfullyy foreboding about abandoned houses, so I thought I would try my hand at describing it.

A short tribute to those from whose coats still dangle the threads of a golden star.

Who is the man in the mask? Why, that's precisely it. If you can find the meaning, I applaud you.

Where does the spirit go?