It starts like a low tide—
subtle,
pretty, even.

But inch by inch,
the dark creeps in
til' suddenly—
dusk hits.

The tide becomes a tidal wave,
and all at once,
the darkness slams you into a haze.

You have no choice but to succumb,
the voices tell you there's no other option,
while staring down the barrel of a gun—
that this is all you have left.
So you drown in your sorrow
leaving behind all regret.