Whisper of a Cry

I sat before my writing desk
Sat and stared at the portrait grotesque
The portrait I had conjured myself
Though it stayed upon the shelf
Once again my mind wandered
Of the portrait my soul pondered

The image felt no need for me
As I felt no need for plea
I smelt a dying smoke in need of breath
And I searched beneath my desk
A flame had sparked beneath my nose
And soon it began to crack like the death of many crows

The fire rose unto its throne
Casting a shadow that bore no bone
It ceased and died
And from its embers it cried
“Bare the death of your life,
When you see the sight of the scythe”

My lamp grew ever darker
As I listened to the harker
The harker which I greet
My desire for him to retreat
To retreat ever, evermore
To the days of yonder yore

But in my dismay
The creature must still stay
He shall rest in my mind
And I shall surely fall behind
As I quickly deny my fate
I become tenaciously irate

But my fate will not subside
When I hear the whisper of a cry
A cry that tells to me
Why I should not cry indeed
Through the gates he came
But I shan't dare whisper his name

The faceless ghoul had ascended
From the lore I should have ended
His shadow I had dreaded
For my being he was headed
My mind shall forever be rended
And my soul shall never be mended