Shadows are a friend to these thoughts of mine./ best brought through the blackest of doors/ A myriad of choices to reminisce about, / Are but a foggy maze my mind explores./ I dreamed but never imagined the null my life has become./ I imagined but never dreamed the depths my mind would plum./ If these darkest thoughts of mine could claim to have substance and weight,/ They would drag me down to the depths of hell,/ with apathy and hate./ And if these midnight musings could be ephemeral as breath, / They would spread like a virus leaving behind only death. / So I carefully keep these thoughts in my heart,/ buried beneath grief and tears./ And the sighs that they wring from the depths of my soul, / Shall never fall upon mortal ears./ It is said that The Egyptian God Anubis has but a single chore,/ To weigh souls against the feather of amuut and decide if the sins weigh more./ How heavy is the sin of despair, does ennui weigh a pittance more?/ Can a feather weigh less than blameless guilt; can a hollow heart weigh more?/ Do thoughts have weight, whether fast or slow?/ Does pain make you bleed? Can love staunch the flow?/ Is hope just a reflection in the dread mirror of time?/ Do I cast a shadow, these desperate musings of mine?/ Questions breed endless questions, / Like sharks at the smell of blood,/ Rhetoric ,like hate, is abundant,/ Lies flow in an endless flood./ My waking existence is bursting with the screams/ With the Suicidal deaths of the shallowest dreams,/ This world brims with an abundance of fools/ who think life is but a game, if u follow the rules./ I know, I was one once, who thought life was fair./ was disillusioned by hope, and was taught by despair./ Shadows care not where by light they are cast,/ Love is devoured by hatred so vast./ souls will die hungry, desperate to feed/ Hope springs eternal in a desert of greed./ Fate stacked the deck, the house always wins./ The dice are still loaded, weighed down by sin./ From the dreams of the void, to the casino of Hell./ From breath to death, from desert to well./ Flow my thoughts like a concert in the stadium of time/ Revert to the start in Irony sublime/ Shadows are a friend to these thoughts of mine,/ best brought through the blackest of doors/ A myriad of choices to reminisce about, / Are but a deep misty maze my mind explores./