Dark Descent
By Andy Alt / Mental Dimensions
February 23, 2009
Death digs into my neck with its sharp, bony fingers
On my way down the slippery slope past the point of no return
Hope lost like a grain of sand thrown in the ocean
Can’t trust anyone
because I don’t trust myself
Always doubting others
because I doubt myself
Crippled inside and emotionally retarded
Conflict within and I’m only a fraud
As usual, I’ll be fine tomorrow, no need to worry, there’s no hurry
I still miss Artie, one year later, he’s gone, dead on my birthday, he knew, he understood, we were crazy together, but now he’s not near, except within my heart and memory, but it doesn’t make up for the void where he was and will never be again. Death takes us all, but never at the right times.
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