Artwork: Let the Poor Thing In by Will Jacques

Is There Anything More?
Caitlyn Pace

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.”

 

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