Shadow my soul in the waking hour
when while recall an ominous glower,
sleek in form in hallowed ground
carry me forward toward eery sound.
We will visit a menagerie of memory
in order to feel soft, history is worry
some madness occur inside the mind,
insidious in its penchant callous remind.
A childhood in frivolous innocent display
will certainly show ignorance in decay.
We live our lives as hopeful idyllic hero
always a wish to perpetual beauty grow.
Internal storms do concern our waking
hour when reflection is, well, frightening.
While our lives continue to grasp facade
we mustn’t allow private lives seem odd.