When you are scared,
Absolutely terrified,

You know it is coming,
A dark lumbering beast,

Always watching you,
Always waiting for you,
Always reminding you,

You know you cannot out run it,
You learnt to accept it,
You know it is stronger then you,

Your best,
Yet your worst.

It is yourself,
Knowing that you will never be able to win.

Because if you have to fight yourself,
You have to both win,

And lose.

Knowing why.
Knowing how.

Yet you wait,


Staring across the table.



I feel it,
Its there

My Pandora box
A box filled with daemons

All that which I find and absorb.
Its there,
waiting patiently for me

to weaken
to let my guard down
to escape

for when it does
woe on to myself
woe on to those around me

nothing will stop it
nothing but myself

for only I can destroy myself
my own story

I am its master
I drive my destiny
I create my road
I do not travel on a road

be it traveled by
be it less inhabited


I create my own
that is perhaps

why i feel like I do
a road

a path

does not exist
perhaps we all do it
I believe we do at the least

then we grow tired and follow the road of those who came before us.
then someone comes and he makes a road for us

but I am not even that person
for it takes a genius to carve a road for others
I carve only a trail for myself
my own story
which I

I got no choice but to travel alone.