A few more miles, and at home I shall be
With blood on thy hands
There, I left him, for all of the world to see
No, this wasn’t by chance
…

Oh- the weight, the weight and what it could do
As my soul would severely suffer, hideously an ugly bruise
The sting of my salty tears, often a melancholy excuse
My obsessive thoughts- they ruled, always a muse
…

A thousand trees standing in front of me, painting the scene, the scene of a landscape of stupendous green, all of which these two eyes have never seen, each with branches that tickle
…

And as I turned around, I was presented by darkness, nothing but a void of absolute emptiness, staring me in the face, as if death had rang the bell early and was welcoming me home, after a lengthy voyage
…

A split-second decision, my fate was decided then, as it all came together, it no sooner fell apart, with thoughts of dementia, masquerading was soon to start, gradually emerging
…

Skies full of tiny golden lights
Floating aimlessly
Grasping helplessly
My small hands, just out of reach
…

A striking spectacle of nature
It all flows quietly through my soul
Starlings whistle is the distance
Lucky I am to call this place my home
…

Thoughts of hope having all been lost
Whilst memories years came at a cost
The stigma of torment-
Oh- how it can bruise ones soul
…

Miles away, looking at myself
A hollow feeling inside
From out of nowhere it came
“Why”, it screams, says this simple mind
…