My dreams floating by…gone,
Those, which I weaved on those lonely nights.
Now they are but petals of withering roses,
Dying slowly as the roots dry,
Secular fiends feasting on my mind.
Surges of alien intangibles saturating the innocent,
Tendrils seizing throne,
Ousting the rightful possessor -- my sanity.
Fear overrides, suspicion charging randomly,
Illusionary forces swallowing the remnants
Of my consciousness
Which once held authority, clearly discerning
Between reality and ideals,
Now splattered with visions blurred,
Boundaries undefined;
Ideals, breathing its last.
Virtue braving annihilation,
Struggled in dimmest hopes
Unable to gather help.
Lost will, lost direction,
Collapsing in desolation,
I succumbed to rotting Hell.