All is Lost

The following excerpt is written from my main character's POV. I have to admit, I enjoy writing him. He's proven to be a fascinating and complex individual. This poem ties in with what I've written so far, and I suspect it is something he's been working on in his spare time. Perhaps it will make an appearance in the book. Perhaps not. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Ladies and gentleman, without any further ado, I give you a preview of Seir's poem:

All is Lost

So the moment comes, when redemption fades away.

It slowly curls like ashes beneath the light of day.

Darkness shreds my soul as I sink into the deep,

And somewhere high above me, the angels gently weep.

I rise, but I am Fallen; blackness taints my wings.

Cursed love, take my light and the agony it brings.

Don’t speak to me of lonely; I live upon its shore.

Bereft of all but anger, I ache for something more.

A loner among many, I crave the absent sun,

Chained beneath the burden of all that I have done.

Love is but a memory, a secret that I keep.

And somewhere high above me, the angels gently weep.

Tuesday Tidbit:

The following is an excerpt from Whispering Hollow, a short story in the works.

The poets of the world will tell you true love is a blessing; the greatest gift man can ever receive. But let me tell you that’s a lie, a cruel and vicious web of deceit the romantic-at-heart weave. No amount of sirens’ songs or pretty words can cover the truth: Love, true love especially, is a curse. It will pull you under its churning waves and strip you of all your senses—both physical and mental. Love robs a man of all he has and leaves him bereft, abandoned on some isolated shore from which there is no escape.


I buried my beloved Chloe a mere month ago along with the broken and desolate shards of my sanity. My heart lay as cold and dead as she, and as I watched the last clumps of dirt rain over her casket, I didn’t know if I should weep with bitter relief or cave beneath the immense burden of grief and guilt. I had watched her hang for her sins, knowing her crimes were no worse than mine. I had watched, and in those moments that ticked by like an unspent eternity, I had felt glee. Even as her tongue lolled and her body twitched in the final throes of death, I rejoiced.

Today, she came back . . .