Poetry

Step 12 (72.)

Spiral through the frigid deeps,
in a place where no light creeps
and see, see that knowing
has left you with no thing for certain.
This world is empty, cold and dead,
willfully instilling dread
in the hearts and minds of any being that understands.
Those with sanity, break down;
there is no vanity in wandering around.
The shield is insanity, you see –
no despair can break the mind of me.
There is something noble about this mission,
and it’s not that I’m fishing for accuracy,
but this lack of secrecy,
it’s what breaks us into pieces.
For secrecy is privacy, and when there is piracy
of our most sacred treasures,
we endeavor for revenge and are gifted with prison bars.
These waters, they sink low,
and if I try to blink
the pitch black away
I still cannot find any certainty.
Best to lie at the bottom,
and become nothing more than rubble
among bubbles.

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