The Echoes

The Echo, she calls
With voices soft and languid;
Your mind, it falls
With thoughts morbid and sanguine;

Your heart, if flutters
With fearful beats and thrashings;
The words, you mutter
With teeth gnawing and gnashing;

The vocals, they rise
Returned from craggy heights;
The power, it lies
In whispers soft and light;

The wind, it blusters
With frigid hands grasping;
The thoughts you muster
Worsening with moments passing;

A scream, it echoes
Across the highest crown;
Your throat, it bellows
With lips compressed in frown;

It comes, this night
A darkness from the sky;
A suit, of might
For in this time you die;