I am cold
Cold and empty
I have emerged from the void
Once again
Into the safety of emptiness
And the comfort of the cold
Hiding behind manic mantras
To ward off madness

You see, I shook the memory tree
In search of inspiration
Stories from the past
To amuse or provoke
But when you shake that cursed tree
Not all the fruit that falls is good
And one memory leads to another
Like a row of terrible dominoes
Leading to long forgotten
And deeply hidden
Traumas

                                     By Phil Roberts