The Diary Of a Dark Poet, Part 2 The Awakening

The Diary Of The Dark Poet Part two.
This story continued and days became nights, hour after hour i battled my mind. Born into sorrow and cursed by that thing. I slept in the day so that i could remain. As evening crept closer, the cold fills my veins. A shadow of terror never baring a name. This harpy of death that had given my name. As midnight grew closer i sat in the light, preparing my wits for those cold lonely nights.
At 2 it was silent, not a creek at the door. But knowing my house there was so much in store. As my family became settled my night had begun. In watches of the darkness a shadow has come. I hear it approach as it echos down the hall. The footsteps are deep as it enters my door. My breath becomes silent, no air fills my lungs. The Lord of the Darkness has come for his son. He wraps at my windows and screams through my walls. Driving me crazy with sounds of the damnd. He bekons me closer and calls out my name. Poet of shadow, it is you that i claim. I regain my voice and i scream out in fear. You come to take me demon but my answers the same. Go back to the shadows and haunt me no more.
Death will not take me as you stand i nmy door. You think you can scare me me with the cries of the dead. That i'd fall to me knees and so that i could be claimed. I am the darkness that swells from your heart. I am the one you've been searching for. But you cannot take what is already dead. This shell is a coil that i will simply shed. Try if you want but attempt and you'll fail. He who is darkness could never be claimed.
The Shadows grow darker and pain fills my wounds. The cut marks are fresh from the sword of the doomed. I gather my strength and face down this threat, i chant out a spell and i bind him in place. The verses are fluid and attack him with grace, it rips through his shell like a knife through a cake.
My power flows freely and strike him again. He doesnt have a chance as i drive him away. The shadow is lifted and blood fills my face. My hinges on cupboards are ripped off again. The force of the darkness consumed in my flames.
The one who is many is bound in his place. Ready to battle this poet again.
But i'm the Dark soldier, with my words and my spells
On this battleground of life burns the war that i fight.
If in time my blood is spilt and they lay me down to rest, Know shadowed words were the legacy i had left.
To be continued.

The Dark Poet Byron