Succumbing To Darkness

The heavy air of uncertainty; Hinders every breath; And an indistinguishable smell of rancidity; Strangles and chokes out the existence of all well being. And in desperation you look around for someone to help; But there’s no one that your eyes can see; So you search your mind for a name; But once again none can be found. And with sickle in hand and direction fixed; The Reaper (so grim) illuminates his presence; By the unavoidable air of fear; That’s coming from your eyes. So you lift up your hands to the sky; To ask the powers that be to tell you this isn’t real; But as always the demons living inside you; Insists it always has been and always will be. And your fears; they grew much stronger While to that pit you fall And your hopes; they never prospered; And you never broke those walls.