Artwork: Let the Poor Thing In by Will Jacques
Is There Anything More?
There was a shadow in my room behind the door,
And it wailed,
“There is nothing more.”
In its own lore,
I fancied it would be free.
But there the shadow remained, behind the door.
It often spoke to me from before.
Against the veil of reality, in a plea,
“If only there was more.”
It creaked across the floor,
Until, near my conscious, it would not flee
The shadow twisted the knob on the door.
At times I got up, I swore,
But then its thoughts would invade me,
“Only this, and nothing more.”
In my own empty room, there was only lore,
And from the nightmares, I cried to be free.
The shadow entered through the door.
“Here I am, and nothing more.”