I feel the world around me,
whir into a dream,
Distorting into what would seem,
like visions of a madman,
I stand, within smoldering shrouds of fleeing darkness,
Masked phantoms adjourn into the night,
but gather to the foyer of my brow,
upon a steady hour,
constantly jilting to confront my demons,
but, simultaneously scurry,
for they have no desire to initially emerge,
from their putrid slumber,
and neither do I,
A duel to the death.
For who shall die,
when no soul has a face?
No watch-hand,
has the desire to continue on,
But, my love, I know what I desire,
I long to grasp some truth,
to whisper to the sliver of sanity,
but speak that of a rasp,
merely crow's speech,
the heart has been caged,
and deprived of all hope,
but, still bares its teeth,
and suspends one eye,
in root of almighty Despair,
For what is love,
when the heart is spared of its cage?