Call upon the howling heap.
Find only tears from out it seeps.
Its coiffed facade trembles to keep,
the grin within where sanity sleeps.
Out the twitching sighing pores
pours the saline flow of fears.
Fierce, the rage is tamed within
but endless the battle waged to win.
Scenarios of morbidity
Dreamed to tangibility
The alarm at zero still unknown
The weakness stays its only home.
Will it crumple? Submit to the black hole?
Flailing, falling, failing to console
The glint of numb grief growing,
Never showing
the inner flowing
fjords of its pained soul.
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