Obsessions of servitude.
Denial of the chaos within.
Peace withers…
Piece by Piece.
Like the lost souls
Of all the Hamlets and Heathcliffs.
The Pines watch you in utmost silence.
As you fight the ghosts of your past and present.
The moors refuse to take you in.
As you gather your crippled choices and try to walk away.
You know wilderness of mind offers no refuge.
Not anymore…
It is hard to define freedom.
When the war is…
Against the foes of your own forgery.
Alas! It is the final strike.
Poof! It all turns to dust.
In the winds, that carry mourning of the foes.
Freedom withers…
Piece by Piece.
