I buried the star so far as I assumed  it’s dead
My heart turns into shadows of dread
My mind is eating stale bread
Putrid flesh, a cold mess
Depressed

Illusional thoughts perceptional disease it brought
Nothing but endless drought

A part of me has died and the other is alive
The dead and the living
survive

I cried and I tried
the might I must master to hold-on tight
but I lost my grip and fall into a trip
deep within the hallows of my demons


*© Pax