They knock.
The sound deafening inside
Looking for a place to hide
.
Earnest soul runs
Bouncing off walls
Emptying spaces haunting
Second by second, task daunting
.
If the door caves
They enter with all might
White light or black, no matter
Soul will end up like a mad hatter
.
Pushing by the door
They knock.
The sound, calm outside
Shuffling of gloves, ready to fight
.
Naked soul obsesses
Memories flashing, lightning fast
Alter-ego being called upon
Some stick to hold till dawn
.
Walls closing in and out
Clouds thundering threateningly
Menacing sound of barking hound
It's about to happen, the showdown
.
White dreams enter first
Reason as their weapon
Promises of happiness flowing
Benevolent life, future glowing
.
The soul ready to strike
"Words are wind, my friend"
Whites slaughtered, piece by piece
Soul's effort, not more than breeze
.
Now black dreams stroll in
The stare of death, stride of might
Reason, not their game
Benevolence, not their fame
.
The soul, caught by the throat
Pierced and carved
Till its core emerged, awake
That core, for the blacks to take
.
Tired soul rests
Resistance was worthy
The whites, the nobles, lay cut around
Only solace, they're salvation bound
.
Deeper soul laughs
The battle was brutal
Finally after all these years
Dreams. The Black. The Dark. The Victorious.
