wraiths

The wraiths gather with growing hunger in my peripheral vision, cackling with glee as the shadows grow stronger, moving closer toward the center of my being; consuming all they touch.  The false light of hope which brought me a few days peace is fading, dragging me once again into the grey which is my true reality.  I feel it coming, but it has not settled back into my bones, for hope is not gone, only diminished.  Yet, even knowing this, I repeatedly place myself in this situation; for some light is better than nothing; yet nothing is what I see when I gaze upon my reflection.