Through the tunnel, distant voices.
Through the tunnel, I see them.
Through the tunnel, the shadows strafe.
Through the tunnel, raging noises.
Through this tunnel all danger is funneled... does this keeps me protected and safe?
The inner walls, are drab and dreary.
The inner walls, comprised of the past.
The inner walls, lined with scars and sores.
The inner walls, are tired, weary.
The tunnel is caving? Yes, from pain I was braving from words, actions, and more.
A foxhole, a foxhole, only as good as its structure.
A foxhole, a tunnel, only as good as its shelter.
A tunnel, a defense, only good when intact.
A defense, a defense, will fall when punctured.
This defense mechanism is a curse and will worsen the person it was meant to protect.
This defense, this defense, is a watery grave.
This defense, this foxhole, is filling up fast.
This foxhole, this trap, no longer has purpose.
This trap, this trap, was not meant to save.
