The regaining of ones' self from darkness.
Nowhere to run,
Nowhere to hide.
Laying in a dark sheet of abyss,
Is an old friend who tries to find her way back to bliss.

Waiting in a box,
Clawing at the lock,
Her silent pleading screams,
Can hardly be heard through my seams.

She wonders in astonishment,
How I could be so cruel; so incompetent,
As to stay within this world of such abstracted meaning,
A world with a theme of continuous lying.

She tries to reach me,
In hopes that I’d supply the key,
To opening the door,
That would set her free.

Screaming, Bleeding,
Wondering, Dreaming.
"Pull me out from underneath it all!"
I hear the odd stranger bawl.

Yet I feel a sense of paralysis,
Restricting me from saving her against the nemesis,
Bubbles form; dancing above the surface,
Sounds of static thunder and crashing waves fill the deafness.

Deeper and deeper the young one fell,
Falling into a deep sleep I know all too well,
Losing a sense of reality,
Realizing we are not of immortality.

Just as the dark was to cover this space,
I know what it is I have to face,
Diving into the chilling water crystals of shame and self-doubt,
My hands grab the girl to help her out.


Against the black silk sheets we go,
Until I finally reach the surface on my own,
Until I finally reach the home that I’ve always known.
How would you rank it?
Published: 9/22/2011
Reflections of the Mind...
Bouquets and Brickbats