Quiet, quiet.

The night is dark outside and so is your soul.

There is little we can do about that, I'm sorry, they say oh so solemnly,

hands folded together close to their body

like they are protecting themselves

from me.

Shock treatments and pills couldn't do me good

Nothing could go against the

impenetrable exterior my mind

had formed.

The brambles my self-hate had created

were so intricately tangled

nothing could sidestep nor cut through them.