Flicker
By Matthew Brothers
Lights flick on, lights flick off.
Lights flick on, lights flick off.
In the dark,
creatures dwell,
can’t you tell? So, don’t turn out
the light.
Unless you want to be plunged
into that chaotic night,
don’t ever turn out a light.
If you heeded my word,
you can read this warning well,
you’ll be ok, so long as you remember.
Keep the generator running; the electricity
can’t run still.
In light, you’re safe.
In dark, meet your grisly fate.
There’s a line between the horizon
of safety and demise.
It’s a clear switch when light
enters and exits.
But when lights flicker,
what happens?
Will you be taken in that
alternating second of vulnerability?
What happens when it flickers?
What happens when it flickers?
If in darkness, this question heeds no mind.
You will see no flicker, for you’ll be blind.
Noises you hear will be your mind’s own.
Putrid smell of death; you know you’re condoned.
I won’t write much here,
in the darkness, nothing will be clear for you.
You will not have read this, or what lies above.
You’ve missed out
on the crucial clue.
Grim demise approaches you,
I will now say my goodbyes.
I’m sure you do not
want to die.
Even though you can’t read this,
light sucked from your eye,
I wish you
my sincerest goodbyes.
My sincerest goodbyes.
