A crisp air flow’s down my neck, A ghastly spector my only friend, Lost in a darkness tortured by my own soul, A distant memory the feeling of home, Howl’s from wolves keep me up all hour’s, But alas my mind is locked within a tower, Spectral flames and a sea of red tear’s, The feelings inside are burning clear, We talk all day but only when people don’t see, Wish everyone could know him trapped in this misery, He’s kind,caring,honest and loyal, How does he exist it reflect’s like tinfoil, Hard as stone he feel’s no pain, Silenced by his heart skipping within the rain
Creed's Poetry 