Desperate was the Hand,
To the Fist,
To the Door of Introspection,
To the Mind, to the Darkness.
Pounding, pounding away,
The broken bones,
To the dust of flesh.
A moment before forfeit,
The Great Gate collapses.
Bursting into a torrential tide of Madness,
This scornful swell swam deep into the Heart.
Its suffocating chill, mirroring the growing Dissent,
Resonating all of discord in a living Thought.
Hope's last stand sends deceit fleeing.
Rushing waves, shuttering away,
From the pathetic kindle.
Such a sad flicker, this bastion of salvation.
As with All Things, this too falls.
The Darkness, the Madness,
The Door to all Doors,
Consumes the Light.
