White foam from the crashing sea covers the sturdy bastion,
But still the endless, patient rock holds fast
against all that nature can throw at it.
Though still strong, the once raw edges have been smothed -
worn slowly down after countless years of misabuse.
The spirit can only be young for so long
before despair conquers, and hope is lost in the mists.
and when the time comes, and the tower falls,
all those in it's trust and care shall be defeated -
left naked and bare, crying for sturdy walls
against the brutal truth of the uncaring world.
No more shall there be a respite; a haven to cling to,
a patient and loving mother to hold them tight
and tell them their fears are unfounded -
the demons figments of youthful imagination.
They will see their ARE demons out in the dark
still visible when eyes are open, not vanishing anymore,
and the fear and grief shall drive them mad.

*** To Mocha, who saw me through my youth and will leave me soon. I am not ready to be left alone. ***