Fleeting Sanity, Shelter.
Hear the words within our mind, taunting us to stay awake.
Feel their meanings that define us, feel their trembles as they quake.
Smell the pungent odor that their words of hate so easily spread.
Telling us that we are spent coins nobody wants; we're better off dead.
Taste the foulness of their definitions as they leave your parched, dry mouth.
See how easily in our world where everything's looking up, can quickly go straight south.
Fingers pressed against our temples, eyes dripping as weakness escapes our body.
Who would have thought we could become this when once we were so godly?
Hearing madness within.
Feeling it's wicked meaning.
Smelling the defeat of giving in.
Tasting the sanity fleeting.
This is what we are now, since the ones we've served cast us aside.
There's no shelter for us to turn to, no warm embrace in which for us to hide.
©jarnmarr
J