The Things We Left Unsaid

no escape

Within this mind, two realms are spun, 
Where fleeting joy and darkness run. 
One moment’s grace, the next, despair, 
A ceaseless tempest, cruel and bare.

This plight, it runs through blood and kin, 
A legacy of storms within. 
A heart once warm, now torn in twain, 
Doomed to dance in endless pain.

Hope flickers weak amidst the blight, 
As shadows darken day and night. 
From kin to kin, the anguish weaves, 
In family’s curse, each soul bereaves.