Where were the winds of autumn,
When the summer smothered me?
Where were the words of comfort,
When the world disposed of me?
Where were the sun’s rays of light,
When the moon never set on my soul?
Where were you hiding from me,
When the tragedy of life struck its blow?
Alone I sit in the temple of my own misery,
Blanketed only by the soulless drifting fog,
As it travels across the barren wasteland,
Onward it moves into a future unknown.
So much alike we are, the fog and I,
Incommunicable companions of fate,
Moving along our way, forged by outer forces,
Baseless, ungraspable, and uncontrollable,
A danger to our own existence in the world.
Unparalleled in dystopia fantasy,
I find myself resting in that lonely place,
Fixed between abyss and the void,
A place no man travels alone, out of fear.
But my path led unto this place of despair,
This place, not even fathomed by Dante,
And it shall be conquered and overcome,
Or I shall collapse under its heel.
Therefore it leaves me with no choice;
Until the last breath is drawn through my lips,
I will struggle for freedom or perish in the attempt.
edit on 2/19/2012 by Misoir because: (no reason given)
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