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Behind Masked Truths

Gloomy shadows that grip at wrists,
Grimy paws; with hold on palms,
Pull life essence towards despair,
Down in the depths of darkness,
Not before showing a true naked self,
Opened frozen cold to acid rains,
Else not natural deadly heat,
Scorching burnt dried flesh,
Peeled off seared skin,
Inside now wretched outwards,
The shadows now stalking,
Us from within the light,
The world turned upside down,
Stalking their decomposed corpses,
As they drift longingly into eternal darkness,
Black and blue clouds filled the room,
And choke on their false sense,
Ourself in the reflection of the mirror,
Weeping alone on our deathed beds,
Holding our one hand tight.
I don't know exactly what I want to write about this. Nor how to express exactly what I am feeling right about now. But I've tried.

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June 27, 2002
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