The solemn melancholy filling the air

Passing through mind, depressed the rays of light

That’s battling onwards into the night

Inner turmoil who tortures all that care

Vacuous it seems, voracious in kind

Suffocating in silence, softly

Filling with darkness a cold that does bind

A rope wound with malcontent, so tautly

Winds whistle past, raging against white cliffs

A storm of isolation, weathering

The battered walls, a celestial tiff

A ceaseless siege for a soul that’s fleeting

And there among the shadows it lies deep

Showing not its scars for fear not to weep

Plastering on a face of deception

Thoughts twisting into the apperception

Reinforcing day by day, the lone soul

Drifting by pain, paying the reaper’s toll.