Desperate was the Hand, To the Fist, To the Door of Introspection, To the Mind, to the Darkness.
Pounding, pounding away, The broken bones, To the dust of flesh.
A moment before forfeit, The Great Gate collapses. Bursting into a torrential tide of Madness, This scornful swell swam deep into the Heart. Its suffocating chill, mirroring the growing Dissent, Resonating all of discord in a living Thought.
Hope's last stand sends deceit fleeing. Rushing waves, shuttering away, From the pathetic kindle. Such a sad flicker, this bastion of salvation.
As with All Things, this too falls. The Darkness, the Madness, The Door to all Doors, Consumes the Light.