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Your words, they doomed me to oblivion,
Yet not your words it was, that forced the pain;
The seeming doom, was just some broken syllables
Kept circling round my ailing mind again.

Your words appeared to doom imagination,
That only hears the echoes of it's mind;
But I was judge, and able executioner
While you, as usual, were just being kind.

With friends like me, an enemy can't gain entry;
I close the lock and throw the key away-
I am my poor hearts only brutal sentry;
More hopeless: for to self, I cannot pray.

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