She softly sang songs of sorrow
A gloomy griefless grim glumness gathers and greets the gallows
Strange subjective superficial scenery shadows the subconscious
Various vivid visions vanish in a vague void
I can almost feel the reaper’s scythe as the noose is tightened
I remember thinking what it was I’d done to earn my grave
As an illicit illusion illuminates an illustration of illogical imagery
The countless hours of consumption
Were to be the happiest moments in a brief pointless life
And the promise of euphoria gives me hope
Hidden in a hollow hilltop hope’s heart helplessly hearkens to humanity’s hunger for a heaven and hell
Maybe I have too much faith in the drugs that alter my mind
And not enough confidence to handle serious situations
My death is no exception
I feel lost only thinking of my next high
It seems hard and harsh like a green hit off of a steam roller to think such thoughts
To feed the mind and starve the soul
My luck has finally failed
And luck alone can trigger a butterfly effect
That leaves the masses in awe and jealously inspired
Constantly chasing shadows
With a little luck we may all stumble blindly across the most precious important things one could obtain
To accept and embrace peace and happiness
As they can elude the richest most powerful of men
And the pursuit for a personal holy grail tends to be a delayed, desperate, desolate existence doomed to wait for the lesser of two goods to find them
Peace is death’s promise
Happiness however will not rest in your grave
It’s released in the darkest times of despair
Devoured and digested in a dismal distorted dream
Drowning in doubt
Discouraging the deepest devotion deemed destined dormant and depleted
Drastically demoralized by delirium and dementia in a dimension diminished