Lullaby Of The Damned. Poem by MIRAK Montiel

Lullaby of the Damned
(Dark Version)

When night exhales its final breath,
my demons rise—
not to haunt me,
but to hold me.
Their fingers lace with mine,
cold and knowing,
as we play their games
beneath the ruin of stars.

Can you see them?
Can you hear them?
They whisper rot into my soul,
poison lullabies
that twist like smoke
through the hollow chambers
of my mind.

We sing the anthem
of the broken,
until Death's cousin—
dreamless sleep—
comes crawling,
quiet and cruel,
to drag me
into the hush
beyond all things.

Don't wake just yet.
Let me drift deeper—
let my dreams decay
until Charon finds me,
a coinless wretch,
ready to flee this world
where misery lingers
like a stain on glass.

The clock wears a cloak,
counting nothing.
Time is a butcher
that carves away memory
until only scars remain.

I am the prophet
no one listens to,
spilling black scripture
onto the page,
bleeding ink
from a wound no one sees.

I am the river
that floods and feeds
on ruin,
everything I touch
turns to ash.

If I die tonight,
know this—
I only wanted to be understood.
Not loved,
not saved—
just seen.
And if my words
survive the fire,
may they guide you
through your own darkness.