Edgar Allan Poe taught me to mourn with rhythm, to scream through silence, and to bleed into ink. This is not just a poem. It’s my requiem for the shadows—and my tribute to the man who taught me how to love them. This is for you, Poe.
Never more, never more
Cried the fuckin’ raven,
Shut up, shut up—
I’m tired of this madness.
Speak once more,
Try me—ever more.
I am so ready,
For God himself knows
I’ve heard sinners wail and winners score—
Never more. Never more.
—Boom!
I dare not let things rule over me.
I am the king of this place.
Wicked Raven—
Bother me no more.
I am at peace.
But peace don’t answer back.
Peace don’t bleed like this.
The silence laughed in colors
I couldn’t even name—
The walls peeled backwards,
And the floor became flame.
Ah, the madness.
The insane loudness of nothingness.
I told you to stay quiet—
And now after death, you riot.
Your deafening silence is not welcomed.
Leave again.
Leave, you wretched dread.
Oh, the voices. The echoes.
I cannot stop them.
I am becoming unsatiable,
A warning of the meaningless—so relatable.
Never more, never more
Shall these lips ever speak.
For the dead cannot sit…
…and the cursed cannot sleep.
They said the raven was a warning—
But I see now, it was a mirror.
Each feather, a shattered prayer.
Each cry, a memory I buried in terror.
I fed it my sorrow, my wrath, my sleep—
And when I shot it, I only woke me.
Now the walls are my wings,
The shadow my crown,
And I speak in echoes that drag heaven down.
I am forsaken—
But by whom?
It was only I who brought doom.
Oh, my eyes—they bleed in terror.
My heart can hear itself error.
Never more. Never more.
Oh how damned can I be?
The silence consumes me.
Silence—
the eternal lover.
Take me now, as I am your debtor.
Sinister †Publications 
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