Tendrils of courage wither and die,
While spikes of uncertainty grow without my
tenders of thoughtlessness whimpers of pain,
Stab my soul again and again.
While outwardly none,
Shall ever know,
Why sleep eludes this tender soul,
Pain with no release,
Tears that drown the lifes flow of blood,
Yet none shall ever see.
The shadows wrap around me,
As if none would see,
What this life has brought to me,
In my own little private hell,
The silence that keeps me going on,
Is also killing me,
And yet through out this lifetime,
There's no one here to see,
They think I'm merely needing,
A change of scenery,
And yet I think what's really needed,
Is a total change from me.
As I doth cry out to the lonely souls,
Upon this fettered world,
To hear mine pleas of restlessness,
And what this pain has killed,
Revenge of the sweetest kind,
Is being bought at my expense,
And yet here I stand,
Taking it all....
With no one upon whom to vent.