Upon releasing my grasp on my childhood fears
I turn them over to the quartermaster
A burly fellow exhibiting a sneer with no rival
And as I watch, he packs them tightly in duplicity's pouch

The walk back down these stairs made of rotting ash
Is now much more precarious than I remember
For time is traveling at such dizzying speeds
That my balance has become flimsy in its disrepair

Despite the rapping of nightmare's hands at my door
I saunter over in stupor to let unwelcome guests inside
Unleashed, they frantically invade every crevice
Leaving just fractions of those who once roamed these dusty halls

There is now but a dim candle on the cupboard
Its remaining light grows meeker by the day
I gather all that glimmers to my eye, as dull as they may shine
And set foot for the only world within my reach