Sitting in a coffee shop.
Waste the day away.
Looking forward to the night
when demons come to play.
Darkness hides their ghoulish charm,
while masking their intent.
‘The sun is lost’, their voices trill.
Then sing a last lament.
A fetid sigh, a crackled laugh,
a shadow in my room.
The soulless taunt me from my mind.
They plot to seal my doom.
The author
Adam Adamson still is an awesome shag... Well he is. Honest. But whatever, he has always loved to write, even before he could write. Its been a passion of his since he realised that others would read his stuff and get a little emotional. That gripped him really. Was it good or was it crap? Anyhoo! Enjoy reading what i’ve scribbled and who knows… one day it might make sense.
Dec247h 
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