I’ve fallen to the hush, as I bleed in the swaddle of distortion,
Reaching for control, but I’m held back by panic
Filling my lungs, having Chaos sniff for my scent,
The depths growing as I choke on the cold surrounding me,
The bitter taste engraving itself, on the back of my throat,
A never ending climb out, prolonged by my crippled
Sight, caught in a violent haze that furthers my damnation
That is comprised of my most vindictive demons,
Taunting me in the avalanche, ripping out my voice
With their molten silver talons, dredging up the darkness,
I’ve been through it all, the battered and bruised victim
Of anarchy in my own halls, shrinking atop of me,
As I fall asleep in that hush over a rat’s nest, nibbling
At my control, down to the bone, now open to infestation,
Turning my harmony into pandemonium, I see doom
Climbing over the horizon, reaching for my grave,
Creaking is the casket as it opens, letting in mayhem,
For even in the hush, it is Chaos who sets the stage,
For Sanity’s gates, have been distorted.
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