Ode to the Umbral Abode

by Nadir Ex Obscurum

A first person perspective of a mortal consigned to endure a cruel fate at the hands of the shadows by none other than Yami Bakura. Once that sinister spirit has his sights on your quivering soul, there is nothing he would enjoy more than watching his slavish shadows consume it whole. (Short Poetic One-Shot)

Note: I am aware of the fact that this piece is indeed quite short, but this was intentional. It was not intended to be a long one, and I do personally feel it ended where it should have. I did not wish to ruin whatever I had written by being verbose when it's not necessary. I am a believer in attempting to emphasize content over quantity. I felt there was no use in trying to elongate this if I felt I would be needlessly repeating things and thereby reducing the quality of the poem. I appreciate you taking the time to read this. ~ Nadir

I only recall being enveloped completely by that blindingly unbearable glow

As my groans of agony were cruelly mocked by the spirit bearing locks of snow.

All that occupies the mind are thoughts inundated by an overwhelming feeling of despair.

Debilitated by the obscurity, I struggle to meet that ivory demon's crimson glare.

Upon his villainous visage creeps a most wicked, wolfish grin,

A feeling of hopelessness spreads as I realize I will never again see my kin.

I know my torment serves as a mere source of entertainment preceding my demise,

Sadistically gleaming orbs are what comprise his malevolently gleaming eyes.

Oh no, but this is quite a different infernal place.

I see not one familiar mythological face.

The impudent Ixion is not seen bound to that torturous wheel in eternal pain,

Nor does the tormented Tantalus attempt to quiet his panging thirst in vain.

Sisyphus does not labor to indefinitely push that burdensome rock,

Nor do the Erinyes squawk about pestering lost souls around the clock.

There exist no individuals hailing from those ancient Greek tragedies,
For only caliginosity and coldness thrive in this realm reminiscent of Hades.

I feebly raise my head to make eye contact with the man donning the obscure trench coat,

And again I am met by a maliciously smirking visage with eyes that perpetually gloat.

I groan in agony as I attempt to wade through this sea of spiritual death,

And the shadows constrict my lungs as they attempt to stifle each breath.

Before me appear vivid illusions of disquieting scenes from my past,

I sink further into this gluttonous void and wonder how long I shall last.

I fight back those saline droplets that outwardly display one's inner gloom,

A task made painfully difficult by this despicable dungeon of dark doom.

Grasping the sides of my head in unbearable woe I wretchedly fall upon my knees,

And in vain I yet still attempt to move the cruel king with my anguished pleas.

Thin, sinuous shadows forcefully pry open my lips to commence their chore,

Searing agony makes itself known throughout my body as they infiltrate my soul's core.

Every nerve, muscle, bone, and blood vessel becomes all too acquainted with pain,

My pitiful efforts to resist and liberate myself are done in vain.

And as they weather my will to resist the fiery obstinacy of my spirit gradually dies.

I have finally succumbed to the shadows, and never again will I rise.

The vicinity shakes with the tenebrous tyrant's malevolent laughter,

And vanish do the hopes of achieving the goals I once sought after.

Vanishing is that once intensely burning spiritual fire,

I unleash one final cry of anguish before my soul and being officially expire.