The string of vivid imagination goes deep,
Flooding the path to a loosened character,
When I pluck it; it gives a shrill resounding noise,
Leading to the mystic cavity of an unruly conscience,
Putting me in a dread.
Those particles of audible sun light filter a way,
Through the tiny blackness inside my mind,
Biting and nibbling the inner elastic heart,
Falling freely like pointed black darts,
Aiming sharply at the sensitive organs,
Nothing more than an inconsequential brawl.
The string finally breaks with a painstaking gasp,
I find myself so empty,
With nothing to ponder on,
Except that crimson blazing light,
Dark tunnels of life then emanate a hearty chuckle,
And leave all those who are bald and shivering with non-existent fear.
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