Pointing westward towards the stars
they mock with twinkle far above
while on the earth I find myself
moving towards the bargain's edge

the next step could be the last
still I walk another mile
a journey made cause I'm alive
no other reason comes to mind

far beyond the point I'd stop
if a choice could be my own
removed by contract signed in blood
begging to be ripped in half

don't taunt me with this fantasy
that's the inner voice of cruel hope
woeful wind through empty halls
abandoned to the screaming ghosts

amongst the howls the ring is grasped
put to nose by ritual
with sacrifice made to elder gods
of comfort spiked with lunacy

functioning becomes the norm
insanity in the brain
while the shell marches ever on
asking for the next step to be the last.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171109.