Close to catatonic
Until the mind is released.
Freed.
Fallen.
Failing is what others see.
Matters of such matters only
Matter to those involved.
And if those are only figments
Of an imagination gone ary
Then why, do they come alive?
Shots in the dark do not damage demons
who dance in retinas of ruthless souls.
Fallen.
Failing.
Freed from fallacies these demons dance
In shallow souls of mocking crows
And only know what is foretold.
Until the mind is released from
Its shallow sheep that shudder in sleep.
Dive.
Only depth will bury the beasts
Will bring them to their ***** knees
Drain them of their energies
Of drowning in such simple pools
Of petty thieves.