Dark swirling, shifting, speaking..
This was the place a boy found his solace,
Yet it's also the place he may find his doom.

The voices cry out all the painful truths
Which he struggles not to accept.
The only time he had ever managed to keep these voices at bay
Were the moments he finally slept.

Those days he tells himself are long past.
The love he holds for his precious three he swears he'll make last.
He helped seal up that archway what seems so long ago,
But still it beckons not that key to throw.
It promises him solace.
It promises him power.
It promises him peace
And never more to cower.

Only one thing it asks.
Just fade back, Little One.
You are lesser,
Weaker,
More naive,
And unable to know
What great things in this world you could sew.
If only you would stop fighting the destruction
Which is already filling your soul.

It's just those three he keeps holding on for,
But even so he knows that will soon fade out to not
Just as all the promises of his past he has forgot.
Even though these three hold all he's ever sought.

People like that I speak plain.
They don’t like when poets are vain.
Hope they love this little refrain.
Think I’ll do it, again and again.

Flowery language isn’t always for me,
I keep my verses wandering free.
Simple words do hold the key,
So a sapling becomes a tree.

Paul Butters