Enveloppé Obscurité
Shrouded Darkness


A wind,
A thought,
What have you wroght?

A window,
A door,
Is something there?
Or nothing, anymore?

Shadows dance in the edge of night,
Things seen in the cornor of your sight.
Turn to Stare,
But all you will see,
Is a reflection of normality.

A Person, A Ghost, A Sight, A Feel,
Yet you still can't help to ask,
Was It Real?