Dark Skies
A cloud forms in the back of my mind,
As wind swept thought seeks shelter.
Clinging to the last vestiges of sanity,
Fearful of the tempest's steady advance.
Now caught in the eye of the storm,
Rational thinking stands at the crossroads.
A torrential downpour loosens my grip,
And I'm washed into a flood of madness.
Pelted by soft voices from dark skies,
Enticing me with false visions of grandeur.
Powerless to resist their subtle suggestions,
I brandish my gun and breach the crowd.
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