By Cinnamon (

Type of Work: Fan Poem

Disclaimer: This poem is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just a fan poem!


And their eyes came
From somewhere not of hell,
But single beads decayed,
Of mist indulging face,
I saw deep in their hypnotic
Dread dementia.

Reaching far undead
Hands caressed my face,
Wishing me to pour all secrets,
I pulled away but their arms flew not away,
Failing happy, joy and good.
Gaining sorrow, mourn and pain.
Falling loose from my emerald eyes . . .
A drop of fuschia blush upon my cheeks.
I wept. I opened . . .

Letting phantoms fly into my dreams,
Mother and father beside my bed,
Naming prayers, courting hope
Listening to the words-never let go.

And the world turned multicolor
As we flew from real,
Into the past,
A broken reel from long ago.
But just as pure as gold.

The flaming red laughter
Around my waist,
I remember . . .
She gave me heart.

A mirror reflection.
He smiled at me
And draped silver down
My body,
For I felt it . . .
He gave me courage.

And though I just began to love,
Dark just began to play,
As slowly tilts my head,
Slowly screaming rings so loud
To all horror, that I listen hungry
To their committed souls.

To them and self, I hate
Dementor's eyes and mirthful smile,
that I lay in cold.
I lay in wait.

And my own inflicted pain comes
somewhere from within, I see.
And not of them.
I know.

I hear the cry . . .

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