The Black Road

The Black Road

I sit in the corner of my darkened room,
The place where I linger, my private cell,
Staring at the wall, crying rivers of doom,
Looking at nothing but a flame-wreathed hell,

But the little hurt man, that I call my mind,
Is far away in that desert land,
Walking down a black road, all naked and blind,
Preparing himself for the last final stand,

This traveler of despair is thirsty for hope,
But no maiden fair, no white dove appears,
He looks down the road, sees a far away slope,
And hopes he would die, and yet he still fears,

Monsters and scarecrows to his left and his right,
Laughing and mocking, it hurts like a knife,
As he walks through the blizzard of the lonely night,
And the panther called sadness becomes his wife,

He steps over bodies, both bloody and pale,
They blink with their eyes, welcoming him,
His love-bursting tears touch the sand that's so stale,
In this sea of the damned he wished he could swim,

The blackness deepens, the road still goes on,
No end is to be seen, until he decides,
To give up to the drama, to acknowledge he's won,
He, Lord of Darkness, with his hate-covered knights,

Just before this small man, who is shaking and frowns,
Sees the terrors no more, reaches his last resort,
He sends out a cry, through the razor-teethed clowns,
Through the hordes of barbars with depression as sport,

The cry goes out, much further than thought,
Through the thick clouds that shield the sun and the doves,
It looks for one soul that's also fought,
To team up with compassion and the warm joys of love,

And there they are, the flowers and hearts,
The candy and softness, a childrens smile,
Waves of silence, and peace, and new starts,
Forgiving, loving, at least just for a while,

But the cry goes numb, as does its hope,
Because they all don't listen, they never did,
And as all of his friends hang on a rope,
He remembers a past filled with candles unlit.

And he prays and he begs, just to be happy once more,
He is crawling forward, touching the cold, burning road,
That's made of broken dreams and hurt feelings they bore,
He stops as he feels a cry from a throat,

And there he is, the Lord of Pain,
Asking him to surrender and die,
He hopes for help, but it's starting to rain,
So the man lays down, let's his final thoughts fly,

And so I sit, desperately in need,
Tears of sorrow, the knife won't go astray,
It would have taken one word or deed,
And all of this wouldn't happen - no way,

But in this moment, where everything stops,
I look out the window, see the road outside,
It's covered with leafs and shining in drops,
A light through the clouds, it all looks so bright,

The knife falls to the ground, never touching skin,
I stand up, dry my eyes and will not give in,
My hands make fists, I won't let him win...

.... And the tiny man will wake up and grin.