A wailing chord that tore the night in twain, A rebel’s fire strung fast upon the wire, He struck the sound where chaos held domain, And birthed a force both violent and dire. No courtly tune, no gentle minstrel’s play, But fury shaped in jagged, roaring might— A storm that turned the dark to fleeting…
Author: thicke
The Midnight Whisper of Ambition
The moon hung low, a silver disk afloat in a sea of shadows, her light spilling through the blinds in stripes, a prison of my own making. The house, a vessel of muted murmurs—soft snores, the faint creak of settling wood—breathed around me as I lay, unblinking, tethered to the bed by the weight of…