Darkness
is something we've created.
She's not real.
She only exists
if you believe in her.
She consumes the clever minds,
shrouding them in the heavy dark;
the ignorant
they see nothing
but a man crouching down
holding his head,
down for some quiet time.

She likes to swarm
among the small and low,
the powerless,
the sad;
suffocating them,
removing them
from reality,
leaving them to bask
in the imaginary world of blue.

Brave heroes
try to save the poor and unfortunate.
Waving their sharp swords around,
they hurt none
but themselves;
sinking into misery themselves.

Darkness weeps,
for the ones she embraces.
Over the saddening landscapes
of the ones covered in blue.

If only, she weeps
I wasn't needed,
then these people wouldn't
be in eternal sadness.
If only,
the mind wouldn't
dream up such beings
such as myself.
If only.