The lonely tangle
of the mind’s web
is like fighting fitted sheets
to stay in place
Yet, we dance within our folly
and fall to our faults -
While the frequent whispers of failure
cascade upon our hopes
Silence, the lone chariot awaits
less we smother in darkness
we ride to morning‘s embrace
And though the sun is shattered
we are blinded by its face-
left to dance with the devil
quelling our flames















