Down into the spiral of
the madness of my mind.
Slowly the world becomes
stripped of everything,
and white becomes black.

Tomorrow the blade calls,
but what keeps me from
beckoning to the summons?
Each piece of my soul
becomes another missing
chunk in a mixture of
toxins that surge through
my veins.

My hopes and dreams become
nothing more then forgotten
riddles that plague my mind.
Taunting at my mind with
glee as I clutch my heart and
my head.

I search for a familiar face
against the darkness,
but only to find my own hand
out stretched to beacon
me home.

If there were ever a face behind
those shrouded nights each seemed
more distant then before.
No longer does my soul feel
the urge to shine for I notice
that many can do that without
me.

The only thing I can do is
grow dark and become harden
in the darkest layer of
my own dreaded misery.
With sweet torments of what
could possibly be.

10/09/2003

Posted on 10/09/2003
Copyright © 2024 Christopher Shin