The death chains rattle our inner most thoughts,
the mist adding to the chaos that bares its gruesome teeth,
spreading through memories we hope to forget,
an inner disease we hope to get away from,
death, darkness and dismay follow firmly behind,
the silence is truly foreboding.
We constantly run into things we fear,
people of our past re-emerge who shatter our fragile thoughts,
our angst, our hurt, our fearful selves emerge from that fearful mist,
that the death chains rattle its grim entrance,
we scratch at our nearest escape
which is a mirage of hope lost in its shadow,
the silence is truly foreboding.
Wake up, wake up, we call out from within,
wake up from this insipid mess of thoughtless disregard,
thoughts that leave behind a vile mess,
Our struggle is within, our heads a battlefield
with no victor but a myriad of loses,
that culminate in one giant mess, US.
With no friend in range, no one to share,
the silence is truly foreboding.
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