In his mind, he is the answer.
His thoughts are like a legion, used to shoot down the thoughts of failure.
But his memories are a sword.
For he overlords inevitably, in where no fair maiden’s embrace can warmth.
He is insanity in it’s true form,
And insanity to the core.
For war is the memories,
He has seen too much-
Nostalgia is the childhood, off of the thoughts that once was.
But a man turned to wrath, vengeance is an invader-
Snatching lifeless villagers,
The conscience is the pillanger-
And in the mind, the platform is an endless field, where the fog of war is as wheat.
For what insanity bodes the courage to stand alone?
In the mind of depravity, a fiend becomes as a beast.
And standing in the middle is the shaper.
Copyright June 19, 2017