dissecting the blob
of death and doubt
to let the light shine through,
takes time and pressure
to clear the pile,
rubble of self runs high.
the shovels of hope are tarnished and rusty,
the muscles all weak and decayed.
the power of will no longer powers here
only longing for the sun
before, destruction won
but now a hole protrudes
to show scenic solitude
but for life and limb
the hole won't spread
the dream stays just that.
the longing of outside dissolves the self
the mind is free to wander
about the clouds of death and doubt
searching for the light.