Bane
Step lightly where the ivy crawls
Beneath the shadow of darkened walls.
The circle marks where stone met bone
A quiet pact made, dark, alone.
Roots are reaching through buried clay
And track your soul that walked away.
The fire burns low, embers grey,
Please sweep the ashes of the past away.
Your footsteps wander from this old ground;
Believing that distance is peace to be found.
Roots are reaching through the buried clay,
Secrets rot, block the sun's last ray.
As daylight fades and stars grow bold;
Tell stories of the earth, long and old.
Hear your name, give up your sight,
Never again will you burn with light.
Roots are reaching through the buried clay,
And seal the tomb where you’re forced to lay.
About the Creator
Alyson Smith
Neurodivergent, working-class writer and artist diagnosed with Bipolar. Based in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. MA in Creative Writing. Currently waitressing while finishing my novel.
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