I wander the desolate plains of my inner-most thoughts,
bringing fourth things that should have been left to rot.
To stagnate in the back of my mind,
and quickly be forgotten over time.
Though seldom do memory's suppressed by fear stay hidden,
oozing through the small cracks and crevices in the mind.
The crippling fear that grips me, leaving me blind.
Taking hold of my senses, making light hard to find.
Dreams once peaceful turn more sinister as the days go on,
paralyzing me into submission, leaving me restless until dawn.
Making long sleepless nights something I've grown accustomed to
As days seem to grow longer I'm left only to wonder,
What has my mind come to...
