Hope holds my hand
Against the anxiety of the
Topsy-turvy turns of
Icy isolation with
Nemeses, Necromancers, Nothing,
Guiding great things.

Never and nothing:
One can't open the
Narcoleptic disposition I'm
Experienced in.

Lavished in loneliness,
Obliterated,
Venturing to
Expel or endure through this
Destruction.

But in the end there is only
You.

One, but
None are
Expected to stay.

Hating none, loved by one.