First, it’s slowly falling,
leaving a path behind.
Then it falls faster,
disintegrating the mind.

So cold and heartless,
chilling the heart beyond.
Still falling silently,
leaving the lips without response.

Nothing in the world,
will make the falling thing dry.
Because nothing in this world,
will hear the plead or cry.

Hills and mountains,
will leave an echo to repair.
And the falling thing,
will not dry with just a prayer.

The bleeding cracks,
they need to be sealed.
And the lost mind,
it needs to be healed.

I say again, first it’s slowly falling,
it leaves its path behind.
And after years of falling,
it has disintegrated the mind.