Hal turns melancholic

Dark shadows bleaker than the dead, their hands touch my chin in soft caress as I envision the many experiences lived through by the dead, the best, the worst, the middle and I too have crossed many horizons, seen many smiles, such knives to behold behind those teeth, aimed for my back, at my front when they have grown confident, such sneers when I have fallen, what praises they offer when a favor is sought, I bring back the dead, to remind men of what had happened, and men they prefer bedtime stories, no man ever really wants to hear the truth, it is best covered with daisies and rainbows, alas that has never brought me peace. The drips of the raindrops can be heard, dripping, dripping, till the stones finally crack, and I wonder when too ... ... I will fall. and it seems I care not, for it is a cold damp place I am in, no stirring of the wind, no color within the horizons, it is all quite still here, in my inner realm, where the real me resides.