The Present


Sounds of silence
Echo in the corridor
Of my mind
The lurking doom
Of impeded fear
Dismissed with a blink
Of my eyelids
Yet still remaining
Unbidden, unforetold
My story grows slowly cold
And in the shadow
Of the purple sunset
We must adapt
Or quickly forget
To be forgotten
Ends it all
And in the veil of oppression
We slowly fall
One by one
We strive; we try...
Unsuccessful
Until we die.


by sebastian raaphorst (vorpal^), 1998