He lurked in sly places,
hidden by the darkness I had surrendered to.
Once, in the middle of the night,
in the blackest of hours,
he would tiptoe into my room,
trying to shake me,
urging me to surrender the treasure I had just discovered;
a treasure that sparked a faint light,
just enough to keep me alive,
but not enough, then, to save me from what was to come.
Time and again, he failed.
Frustrated, he screamed,
hurling more filthy gold and choicest treasures.
I did not budge.
Then she came; stealthy, soft
cloaked in the guise of despair.
She was gentle.
She listened to my heart,
wept when I wept,
but never feigned a smile when I laughed grimly.
And still, I succumbed.
She took my treasure from me.
Then, from the streets, I heard it;
a song of wailing victory.
He had won.
I closed my eyes,
hot tears tracing silent paths down my cheeks.
What was left but to mourn?
