Author Information
The Horror
How can we salt the sunken earth of our missteps
So to not fall further, revisited?
Why are these minds so perpetually pronounced
In all the wrong ways?
And why do we lose sleep at night,
Clawing at our cowardice?
Why are we so imperfect?
I fear that hope will not be present
In all that is deemed hopeless.
But who does the deeming;
Those predictions screaming;
Who does the deeming of the fall?
We are tired of being so terrified
Of our first step out of bed.
Exhausted and shrinking away
In the frightening bliss of day.
And we are so scared that this fright
Will carry on wholely into our respite night.
Or infect our dreams, that they may cease
And turn time a complete blight.
