One of Them

 
Cold shadows collected, strewn through the night
Like a dark trousseau full of mourning and grief
As the remnants of ghosts and specters past
Gather around like a den of thieves
 
But my eyes could not distinguish life from death
The very fabric of reality has been lost to memory
With an emptiness that seems to weigh a ton  
Where the silence feels quite deafening
 
There, secrets are whispered in frayed threads
Fractured and broken in mnemonic tones  
Lost forever in the echoes of time
Knowing I’ll become one of them