The Lonely Traveller

Gather the pieces crumbling from your soul
Secret them away to the box under your bed
Don't whisper a word when they claw up in the dark
To grasp at fragments and tear the mind apart

Neutral stance, feel who you are.
Feel every crease and crack and crevice
A mottled battle ground of limbs and scars
Etched with pages of unfinished memoirs

Shadows grown in the space between your bones
Crawling inside you like a parasitic vine
Steeping your blood with longing and with grief
Seeping through a smile made of gritted teeth

This world has no more place for those of darkness
The ground is burnt and ashen where you've stepped
You linger in destruction, depravity and distress
You follow the same path, as the man they all call Death.

The sickly pale figure is never far away
Some days a mirage, others a companion.
And all becomes despair when he draws near
But there is always false joy to mask our fear.

So gather up your soul, lonely traveller
Avoid the crowds, leave behind the happy folk
You must walk the roads where there is naught but silence
Or bear the pain of all you meet upon your conscience.