The scratch of a pen
across the page of memory…
The press of broken dreams
cutting the mind’s defense…
All the while, it begins to shake
and a pair of red eyes open in bleak gray.
Fighting for self control,
is a quest for mind and heart…
Losing only to yourself
it is still a fatal flaw…
Then begins the very end
of all you know or thought.
Blows that bruise your very soul
come bullet fast and don’t stop…
Knives that drain the color
from your brave and fearless face…
They simply cannot quit
for the may allow the victory of IT.
Suddenly a single ray
of blinding, beautiful white…
Lighting this fearful place
that is called the back of your mind…
The blows suddenly end and the cuts
stop spewing blood. Faith has won again.