Where is the good?

Why does blackness consume me every time I try?

How do I escape this grip of death clutching at my soul?

When can I get my life back?

What can I do?


My hope claws at the frayed edges of the cords,

binding me together.

My heart copes with nothing,

giving in to the pain of emotional vacancy.

I walk a thin line to grace.


Distrust embalms me,

slathering me in oils of doubt.

Not one hopes for honesty.

They know only fail awaits them.


Hastily running, trying to escape

the blackness that pursuits.

No time to waste,

hold on to the soul you hold


there is no turning back.

Once you fall you cannot turn back.

The shadows pull at your skin,

slicing the nerves.


You float down styx.

Acid disintegrates your barriers,

pulling, tugging and snapping at your pride.

All you wanted, hoped; gone.


All you see is what you saw.

The pain of the world.

The good clutched in pits of

gruel.


Not one can save you now.

You have fallen.

All is bad.
Good is gone.