The Day is a Playground,
And The Night is
Death

Wind,
Cold as ice.
Slashing,
Biting at my hide.
Wings folded,
Pressed against my sides.
Howls,
Distant and fresh.
I trekked down the slopes.
Slipping,
Sliding,
Flailing as I stumble.
The Moon is high,
In the night sky.
I could not find,
Sleep,
No matter how hard I,
Tried.
The Blood Mountains,
Were my home.
And when I couldn't,
Sleep.
I would visit the falls.
I came up beside it,
To the cliff the crimson water,
Tumbled over into,
The Dark.
Stretching my wings,
I spiraled down,
Quickly.
As I tumbled through the air.
The wind dragging me off course,
But I righted myself,
Again
As I neared the ground,
Something like,
Ice,
Hit me in the head.
I fell of course,
Everything went,
Dark and Silent.


"Talk"

Renegade