Mélange

The blackness

a hole

that leads

to nothing

but remains

and torments

standing so close

to the edge

where light

cannot reach

drinking in

old fears

mixed with new

as this vile liquid

pours down

the sides

of lips

that tremble

through thick

curls of fog

pain and disappointment

puddle at one’s feet

spreading outward

around the one

that’s frozen

by pain

that rips

at the mind

and shreds

the soul

feet planted

on worn floorboards

rendered cold

by worry

and demons

that have

no faces

or names

words are few

during these episodes

they pile up

at the back

of a throat

constricted by fear

this void

gets visited

too often

what’s in that hole

can one push

their hands

into it

would it feel

cold, slippery with mud

or could one

give up

fall into it

escape through it

into what

is the great unknown

or would it

just swallow one up

trapping one forever

in the darkness

with the pain

as the knives

of fear and worry

shred one

for an eternity