Nyctophilia

Dear Scarlet, she who sought
refuge in murky dreams, daunted
by the whispers of broken ones;
their cries were overwhelming but
only to be heard by her, only her.

It was a blessing, after all! She
often cooed stories to the spirits
and souls who had waltzed in dark,
sunless forests where wolves howl
and innocence is lost within the wood.

Scarlet was the pariah they had been
searching for endlessly, the one to
mother them and spread their blessings
through the world, one by one.

Salt water danced deep in her veins,
as she urged her children to feed on
the light, the new world, all consuming
and terrifyingly never ending. They hunger.

Her eyelids are weighed down by lies
spoken in another language all together,
but one that is certainly not human.
Scarlet is losing herself in the caliginous
corners of depression- a never ending maze
filled with tentacled angels and a wish,
one simple wish to just return home.