From the Bogs of Dread

From the Bogs of Dread


Looking into the gray sky… I die…
Treating yesterday as if it was today
Looking to the future as the past
I fall, beneath the decaying oak

Why is this curse sentenced on me?
Every time this day comes to me
Again, so callously, I despise it…
Is it that I’m simply paranoid?

The bogeymen emerge once more
From beneath the moors they roam
Come to chew the soil, uprooted by greed
Inside the beady blackness of their eyes, is me…

I am their abducted marionette at play
They make me act out their incredulous fantasy
Some of them think it’s whimsical for a while
Until they realize, the tragedy beckons my sorrow…

I cannot persuade, nor can I influence
The vicious creatures keep me tamed
At bay, not caring, submissively accepting
Every downfall of the day is shallow bliss

Yet I, the fool, still keeps my perception behind
Back to the days before I entered this wasteland
Sticking to my innate temperaments
My long-lost memories restrict me from going home

Yet, I do know all things must come to an end
I must mature, try to get out of this mess
I make my stand before the field of ‘mares come alive
I give in, lose my breath, and open my eyes…