Inside the soul sits a small child
Someone who’s been gone a while
They sit within a peaceful solace
Listening, always the audiophile
They collapse deep inside the mind
trapped inside a world unkind
What solace makes, a home, a break
the world infests, destroy, unwind
And yet the spiral is beautiful, still
an opalescent, tranquil test of will
as life hung in the balance of hell
the emptiness became the thrill
What are your thoughts? We want to know!