Key to my Sanity

Fingers to the blackboard,
A screech to fill bare lungs.
Talk to the dead of night,
With words spoken in tongues.

And let the night embrace us,
With tears of Devil's spite.
Dressed in black at cemetery gates,
On the opening night.
Buried under deep roots,
Of a sour cherry tree,
Lies a box that contains,
My dying sanity.