Sorrow clutches with icy fingers,
Remorse stills the moment,
Stuck in a world where silence lingers.
Living in a state of disconsolation,
Nothing to say lost in desperation.
Light is only a perceived illusion,
Fright and denial lead the path,
Locking oneself in seclusion,
Colors dim to blackness sealing every corner,
The thought of happiness is a foreigner.
Feelings and anguish are ones perception,
The only feeling is sorrow,
Nothing else, no exception,
Watching the foreigner full of pride,
Sickness and regret boils inside.
He laughs, points, chuckles, and shouts,
Breaking the silence,
Scrambled in confusion riddled with doubts,
The dull blurry monochrome setting,
Sharpens into the crisp hard reality worth dreading.
The foreigner gloats with a sickening grin,
For he knows its check mate,
And you can’t win.
All is lost, no sense of pride,
All your feelings seem to collide.
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