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Welcome to the Gloomy Hollows
of Spookinite Valley

Est. Sept. 2012

My Familiar Haunt
Written by Benjamin Fouché

This is a somber confession, to you I bestow;
How I pace here quite often when my spirit is low.
And when the dream-tides pull in the ghosts of the sleeping;
And I know that no other soul is somewhere peeping;

I wander about, in black shade and in dark shadow
Hoping one night to vanquish this bleak and cursed woe.
I assure you this grief is no mere melodrama;
My inner halls are without any candelabra.

Standing before the black, sullen pond and pondering;
I shut my eyes and let my tears fall—conjuring.
The reflections of my many torments do gaze back;
Wailing of affections that my heart shall always lack.

Now, in this time and place beyond the cold shades of night,
I endeavor to escape the grim grasp that is tight.
It feels as if no soul can hear my implorations;
Here I fall to my knees—my lightless lamentations.

Indeed, I am bound to this dismal purgatory;
Where my mind has become a ceaseless mortuary.
I confess all of this with a glum and guilty heart.
And thus always endures my dreary and dreadful art.

As my breathing grows shallow, and my heartbeat quite slow;
This forlorn and forsaken place, one night you shall know.

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