forced to face the things that go bump in the night.
Around every corner another obstacle appears
which somehow accentuates preexisting fears.
One by one all of hope’s snowflakes melt
as the dragon breathes in all the new feelings felt.
The soothsayer’s seen all that’s once been foretold
and the sorcerer Irotas shakes off the cold.
Through gates of the kingdom the sword had been marched
and an aged golden chalice offered drink to the parched.
The crown though worn thin rides high on the head
of a boy in a sandbox who’s otherwise dead.
The castle constructed with a scepter and pail
designed from the onset to crumble and fail.
The shackles that bound me though lacking a key
were self imposed prisons created by me.