My nightmares are not bound or constrained to the darkness.
In my day there are fugitive dreams
raging fiercely in an uproar uncontrolled in a rapid barrage of turbulence.
My soul has been guillotined rendering me paralyzed through fear
to become icy silent.
Standing among the unrelenting graveyards strangulated with an iron collar.
Where is the merriment
that will relinquish my soul from the pain it feeds upon menacingly?
Must I always have to run a prolong savage and wild gauntlet
being whipped or flogged until I am gaunt and worn out completely.
In this harrowing floating wreckage, my soul has no guardian.
Where is the warrior in me that will rise up with his fortitude to rejoice triumphantly?
In a deep utterance of blazing humbleness, the shadow leaves a limping gait.

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