Creeping in, it caught me unaware
In the dead of night, where dreams slither
With stealth it creeps like smoky vapor
My spirit cries out in apprehension.
It wore a cloak and dagger,
Which dripped words undeclared
Empty parchment waiting
To be soaked with poignant imagery.
The cloak, but a shroud to hide behind
The dagger, a trusty friend
An extension of unconscious contemplation
Oozing thoughts, torn from heart to pen.
I am but a victim of resourceful temperament
Lost souls with untold stories clamoring for release
Mysteries yet unraveled, murders to be solved
Lingering shadows, bound by cloak and dagger.
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