Many a night my mind is set free to wander a mess of thoughts,
a web of dreams and reality, truth and lies, deception and mistrust.
One would think it obvious not to open a sealed wound,
or is a chance missed a chance lost?
...
She
Many a night my mind is set free to wander a mess of thoughts,
a web of dreams and reality, truth and lies, deception and mistrust.
One would think it obvious not to open a sealed wound,
or is a chance missed a chance lost?
Subjection to mental pain and tombs of emotion, blackening,
a darkened sky by heart-piercing arrows, bent on torture.
Yet amongst the hidden light and cancerous imagination,
A white rose amongst a field of black shines ever so brighter.
A rope to escape the keep of my mind,
A key to unlock the door that blocks my path,
To lift the ever increasing weight of doubt,
Real truth amongst the dreams, she is.