It happens over and over again,
Every night, hours after the sun has set.
I feel as if it's a constant battle;
One that I cannot conquer, one that will not end.

Sometimes it is fast, and jagged.
Other times it is a slow spreading ache.
One day it will creep up like a dark mist.
The next it will pound against my chest until the next morning sun.

It is always there, hiding beneath the surface.
Mischievous and masochistic, it waits for my cry.
I falter as it coils around my heart, branding me with it's symbol.
It controls me; it has a power I cannot withstand.

Mockery sings a lullaby in it's laughter;
One that lures my sanity to the land beneath the soil
And awakens the monster from her cave.
Dreary dreams of the mist dance behind my eyes.

Day and night have had their passing,
But the destruction of the soul still lies naked to the eye.
Light prepares to dawn and yet it is not day.
Darkness flees the land, and still it is not night.

Now, as dawn overcomes the shadows,
All is seen and heard: death of the soul.
Gut torn from the cavern and strewn through the trees,
Red water flows thick in the rivers .

Only visible for a breath of a moment,
All ghastly sights are hidden as rebirth begins.
Veiled by new grass and leaves the land replenishes.
Morning sun has risen; horrors do not exist.

Yet the ache of yesterday remains
And in solitude I pass my time,
Always looking over my shoulder for his return.
This is my eternity.

My only friend is hope, all else is my enemy.
And always doubt will overcome hope, as it does now.
The only remedy is my departure,
But fate clutches my life in his hands.

© Copyright 2009 by Taylor Sikes