The tremulous drums of war roll, roll, roll
Purging my psychotic mind into a tremor.
The day ends and the pains in my chest
Put my heart to a quiet rest.
While the ghosts of trepidation scream to me,
They scream to me for saving, warning.
Yet there’s nothing I can do for them, and the horror’s
They have locked inside foreshadow a Hellish rain.
All the while, the Lich of dementia pound on my door.
They want me.
They want to twist my mind into a further psychosocial,
Disrupted mess.
Then the thunders of the drums return.
The night ends, and a new day begins.

 
Copyright © dogfish, All Rights Reserved