Staying still by this hill,
These invisible invincible intangible chains,
Roped around my neck, my hands, my feet, my breast,
Suffocating until tunnel visions all that's left.
Through this endeavor of peaks claim,
Going through these rigorous fires,
Pierced by these kinsmen's serrated glasses,
Dodging fusillades to reach my hopes end.
Through searing eyes of mock do I pass,
Into the abyss do I fall,
Never to wake up,
Never to dream.
Doubt and frustration call out as old friends,
In a tavern do we whirl,
In a frenzy of mad turns,
To spend the night with crazed baggy eyes.
Oh my chains how I wish,
To break from you to reach out,
Hold onto the horde identity,
To take the path commonly advanced.
Alas am I chained by myself,
The keys to which I swallowed,
Hope I find my words; my tongue,
Ingenuity to break through my own failures.
