A/N:  Something an old friend wrote.  I wanted to post it, as it was pretty cool.  All of this belongs to me and herself; please do not take anything.  Thanks.


..."Out of the cold, dark night she emerges

Fueled by the damp and dreary winds

She quietly creeps beneath the moonlight

Seeking a shelter from the storm

A shell to reside in

And to spread the strings of mystery

That seems to weave throughout her web of intrigue

Guided by the light of the stars

She tumbles, staggers and crawls

Deeper into the blackened abyss

Until one day

When a shell indeed comes to enclose her dying soul

Shielding it from harm

As she herself begins to grow

Her dark mystery filling up the living corpse

Eventually taking over

Again regaining her strength

And the will that she needs to go on

She is not evil

Nor cruel by any means

She is a wandering soul

A spirit without reason

One lost without a trace

She protects and remains loyal to these calms before the storm

Until the last string

Of her so long undying hope

Withers away

And eventually dies

She is the screen behind the mirror

The one they never truly see until it is too late

The eternal burning flame

She is her own spirit

She is me

And yet she is not

She has awakened

And she is alive..."