The shackles and chains softly rattle
Constraints so quiet yet debilitatingly strong.
My soul hums a silent and haunting song,
A war cry defenseless and fortified, the internal battle.
Thoughts of darkness have colonized my mind,
sending armies of doubt to chip away hope.
Another wall falls, another town burns, I must cope.
Spiritual decay and rumble—of me, what’s left to find?
Inside the war rages on and on through night and dawn.
Nights spend without awakening, days spend merely trying.
Dreams of being safe and free where my soul is flying—
And waking to reality, the fanciful fantasy is gone.
And how can the mind heal when onset by outer enemies?
Needles, drink, powders, smoke, vice, and temptation.
Traps to snare and rip away, coping that’s mutilation.
False respites that only lead to personal tragedies.
I am a ruin of a man left in the aftermath of isolation’s imperial wave.
Day by day, I wonder how much more I could bare—
Though deep down I know this shackles and chains do wear.
One day I will break free, and it is me, that I will save.