Blood We All Have Bled

Your symphony is fed

by blood you have bled,

and accolades you seek

pop inside your head.

Call your subjects to court.

The bannerman and jesters.

Those your eyes will never see.

Now the isolation festers.

Fear not lonely friend,

though you may try again.

To entertain the thoughts

that let loneliness begin.

None can feel your touch.

So your soul remains incomplete.

Please do not let it shun you if

there’s only silence when you speak.

The room closes in when

you lock yourself within.

Far away from the world,

denouncing it all once again.

Bitter aspects you’ve woven,

do not pretend nor ignore

the chance to strike a chord;

moving dancers along the floor.

Will you not step into the light?

To reveal your pain and might?

You felt what many before have,

let them show you how to fight.

The subjects you did conjure

from deep inside your head,

are more cruel than reality

where others have also bled.

Do not let the voices in

that terrifyingly hearken

paths you need navigate

do not let them darken.

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