The Castle in My Mind

The Castle in My Mind Around the same time of each leap year, My mind runs out of rhyme and freezes out of fear. Even if I am not even here. Even if I am not tucked into the sheet of 42 West Virginia Street. My mind, still it scatters in my life full of tatters, as people ask me if it really still matters. Course to me, it still does. 'Coz to them, it's just a story. Cloaked full of my past glory. dripped from my poisoned pen. And they still don't believe in my words now. So why should they back then? My mind is an apartment complex scattered round and round still a couple dozen staircases until you reach the ground. The doctors, though they try to sink their claws in, Well, they are not welcome in Hell's Finest Inn. For once they pass through the white roses and thorns, the Devil starts to creep ever close and he warns with the shadow of his red bleeding horns. Just another person trying to help, that is certain. But Death is sneaky, conniving and clever. He hides me forever behind his blue sweeping curtain. And soon the red snowflakes made out of their blood drown out the wolf's howl as he's stuck in the flood. As I sit by Death's fire. Playing lute, harping 'liar', the dancing flames keep me warm. But the overgrown leaves melt their brains, so it seems. And the help, well now it's lost forever to the storm. For when you have screamed so vehemently at Death, he takes your last words and swallows your final breath.