Fear, guilt, pain and despair,
All feelings my conscience adeptly provides.
Action, inaction, scrap or repair,
All choices that end with guilt on all sides.
There is no protection from my wrecking-ball soul, It eagerly breaks every person I love.
I can\'t drop the shovel that\'s digging this hole. It digs until quenching all light from above.
But, I promise myself and all those around,
\"Of course I\'ll do better, just give me a shot!\"
Then, no searching needed, the demon is found
And he grins as he kills each every dream that I\'ve got.
Except for the nightmares,
He would never take those.
They spread like a parasite seeking those free.
The demon would use them to strengthen the blows. Destroy every shred of what\'s precious to me.
No ears could imagine the tormenting cries. Removing my eyes couldn\'t stop what I see. A Children\'s story is, \"Lord of the Flies\" when compared to the cautionary tale of me.
I cannot move forward, diagonal or straight, Nor can I hold still,
In a word:
CHECKMATE